Journal of Emmeline Dashwood
by renaid
Summary: What if there were a 4th Dashwood sister, the twin of Marianne?  How would the presence of an additional sibling change the dynamics of this family as they struggle to recover after the loss of their most important member?
1. Chapter 1

**Journal of Emmeline Dashwood**

**23 April**

I am so afraid. Father is ill, very ill. I know he expects to die because he sent for John and when John arrived Father sent me from the room to speak with him in private. I longed to be allowed stay. How am I to know what is going on when no one will tell me? When John came out I could see he understood it as well – Father is going to die. What will my family do without Father? What will I do without Father? He is my best friend.

**27 April**

How is it possible for the world to be so alive when I feel dead inside? Father is gone…

**30 April**

Father is in the ground now and I'll never see him again. He'll never laugh at one of my stories or tease me about being the boy of the family when I arrive fresh from a ride on Gypsy, hair a mess and the smell of horse on my dress. No one will keep Mama from forcing me to be a lady now. I feel like my life is already over without Father. I will steal out for a ride before Mama can begin scolding me for being unladylike, for today, at least.

**6 May**

Father is dead not a week and already John and Fanny are arriving to lay claim to John's inheritance. Our world is so unfair! Why can only boys inherit property? Father and I spoke of this often in his last weeks and it pained him to think he would be unable to care for Mama and us girls after he was gone. I know he did everything possible to provide for our futures but with all his estate tied up in land, there will be little for us to take with us.

He also confessed to me his hopes that John would step up and be a suitable brother, choosing to take care of his half-sisters the way Father would if he were alive. I believe that is what Father asked him to do, that last visit when I was asked to leave the room. I desire to believe the best of John but know he has no will of his own when under the influence of his wife. No, if it is up to Fanny we will leave Norland with little more than that which with we were born.

I know Elinor and Mama have already begun searching for a new home. Elinor is such a good daughter; she's the intellectual one out of all of us. She understands money and the cost of things. Father did well to teach her such things. If not for her intelligence in these matters I fear what would become of us. But I trust Elinor to make sure we all come out all right, even if John fails to fulfill Father's request.

I am going to go mad if Marianne doesn't stop playing those horrible, doleful songs. I understand she is mourning; we are all mourning. But must she fill the house with her misery and ensnare us all under a suffocating blanket of it with her? I overheard Elinor request that she play something different for Mama's sake but all she did was begin an even MORE melancholy tune.

I fear for Mama. She's always been a lady and had a man to care for her. Father loved her so much; I know this because he told me so AND because I could see it in the way he looked at her and spoke with her. Father is my picture of what a husband should be. But what will Mama do without him? She's never had to be strong before.

I'm going to find Margaret and get her to go riding with me. This may be our last chance to be vagabonds before John and Fanny arrive tomorrow and Mama tries to force us to be ladies.

**9 May**

If only I had the right to bend Fanny over my knee and give her the spanking she deserves. What a horrible woman; she disrespected Mama in her own home! She's made certain we understand we are not to take the china with us when we leave (it took all my strength not to smash it at dinner last night, just so she couldn't have it either), has checked the silver (and counted it, I am certain, to be sure we don't carry any off with us), and is making plans to dismantle the library because she doesn't like the smell of books! Oh, my books. There won't be anyone here to protect them. I will have to smuggle out the most important ones. I'll leave clothes behind if I have to but I must save my books.

In addition to these insults she has taken it upon herself to invite her brother to stay at Norland without even asking if we are up for company, which we aren't, particularly more condescending members of the Ferrars family.

I must hide. Elinor is looking for me, no doubt to question me regarding the absence of all of dear Fanny's shoes. I protest my innocence; Margaret and I had nothing to do with it!

**22 May**

Edward Ferrars, Fanny's older brother, has arrived and I must confess he is nothing like his sister. I rather like the man. He is quiet and introspective and pays attention to what is going on around him. So few people with money and affluence are attentive to anything – they simply demand and expect the world to bow to them. That is how Fanny is. But Edward is different.

I shall extol his virtues. To begin, he saved my library. Fanny was leading him through the manor, detailing her grand plans for improvement. When they arrived in the library I was already there, in my favorite chair by the window, reading Fitzgerald one last time, as I cannot possibly squeeze another book into my packing. Fanny, thankfully, did not see me because she was already describing the destruction of my favorite room in the house. Edward DID see me and I know this because he bowed ever so briefly in my direction and then subtly turned his sister so her back was to my chair. He then proceeded to convince her that she couldn't own a manor without a library and if she disliked the smell of books she should simply stay out of that room! If I didn't suspect he was attracted to Elinor, I would marry him myself.

Yes, I do believe he is drawn to Elinor. They seem to always be in each other's company and she has shown him her drawings, even going so far as to give him one he professed great admiration for. They took a walk about the garden this morning after breakfast and I saw him looking at her the way Father used to look at Mama.

I know Mama has noticed, as well, because she spoke to me and Marianne about postponing our move until after something can be decided between them. For the first time in months my twin and I had something to celebrate which we agreed upon and were contented to suffer Fanny a few more weeks if it meant we could welcome Edward as our brother.

Margaret is another reason I approve of Edward. Margaret has an admittedly difficult time in our family, as she is the youngest by several years and rarely has anyone to play with. I try but every time I come in with grass in my hair or a tear in my skirt from climbing trees or playing pirates, Mama spends even more energy trying to make me into a proper lady. Edward has saved us both, Margaret from boredom and me from chastisement. He has become the big brother John never bothered to be to any of us.

Yesterday I was stealing out to the stables to take Gypsy for a ride when I came upon Edward hiding in the haymow, covered in grasses. When I raised my voice to ask what happened to him he quickly silenced me and informed me he was playing hide and seek with Margaret and to, please, not give away his location as he really needed a moment to catch his breath! He's also been teaching her to ride a full-sized horse, as her pony is too small for her any longer and this morning they were seen by Marianne fencing with tree branches on the front lawn. He will truly be a wonderful brother. I have high hopes for him and Elinor. But what will we do without Elinor? Perhaps it is time for me to put away the wildness my father always encouraged so I can be a help to Mama when we lose our Ellie to her husband.

Now I am forlorn. Why does everyone always have to leave? I don't suppose we could convince Elinor and Edward to live with us, wherever we end up moving, could we?

**30 May**

Elinor's face is pinched and tense and Mama and Marianne are pouting in the parlor. We continue to suffer through the same disagreements regarding our next home and nothing has been decided. Mama continues stating that Elinor wants us to live as paupers and Elinor continues trying to help Mama understand how limited our means are now.

Are we really so poor that we can not afford a nice home? Mama had found some that are so lovely – nothing like Norland, of course, but still rather nice. Marianne and I were in agreement over our ability to be quite content in either but El quickly pointed out how impossible it would be for us to afford such a place. She suggests a cottage might be within our price range. Can you imagine? A cottage? Usually I try to support Elinor but this is beyond lunacy.

I do not want to be poor.

**2 June**

A letter came for Mama today from a relative of hers, a gentleman of good report, offering us a home on his estate. The home he provides is, of all things, a cottage. Is it wrong to feel slightly bitter towards Elinor for suggesting such a thing for us in the first place? But a home it will be and at a price we have not seen elsewhere. It is far from Norland but perhaps it would be better to be too far away to often see what it is we have lost.

Mama intends to accept this generous offer but I do not know how soon we will move there. I still do not believe Edward has spoken of any intentions toward Elinor.

**8 June**

Fanny really and truly is the most contemptible woman on the face of the earth. I've begun conceiving a plan to lure her into the barn and allow her to be trampled by the horses.

She has told Mama (not in so many words but neither I nor Mama is a dunce at her intended meaning) that our Elinor is not good enough for her brother and that he has much better things planned for him. I wonder; does Edward know this?

The only good thing to come out of this is Marianne and I are more amiable toward each other than we have been in a long time. It is useful to have a common enemy, I believe.

This evening Mama made the announcement that we will be leaving Norland by the end of the month. Edward appeared desolate and bewildered, as if he couldn't imagine what he would do without Elinor around and even inquired why we had to go so far away. When Margaret, Marianne and I strongly encouraged him to visit our new home soon we were told by Fanny that Edward had obligations in London and wasn't available to go traipsing about the country at a whim. I could almost see the realization in his eyes when it occurred to him why we were leaving at the speed we were. He knows it is Fanny separating him from Elinor. The question is does he love Elinor enough to do anything about it? Or even more so, does he love Elinor? Yesterday I would have said "yes" but the momentary morose look on Ellie's face at dinner tells me she does not even know the answer to this question herself. I wonder how much my poor sister is going to suffer before this drama is over.

**24 June**

I had just returned from my final ride on Gypsy and was hiding in her stall, crying my loss into her warm shoulder when I heard voices in the stall next to Gypsy's. I realized Elinor was there, saying goodbye to her favorite mare as well. Edward had found her. I really did not intend to eavesdrop but I was unable to leave the stables so I heard everything.

What exactly it was I heard is still rather a mystery to me.

It appeared Edward was trying to tell Elinor something that was important to him, but the man was so ill at ease he could not seem to speak a single fluid sentence. He spoke more than once about his education, which seemed irrelevant to his relationship with my sister. I could hear her agreeing in the affirmative but am certain she had no better idea what he was saying than I did. He finally stated that he would always treasure her friendship and seemed to be apologizing for something when Fanny arrived and escorted him away on what was likely an invented crisis.

I heard Elinor sigh, whisper goodbye to her horse, and leave the barn. I resumed my spot against Gypsy's shoulder and pondered what I had just heard. I suppose the finality of the matter is that Edward is not going to fight for my sister. I am horribly disappointed in him.

Tomorrow we leave the only home I have ever known. How are we to endure? I so miss Father.


	2. Chapter 2

**28 June**

It was a horrible trip. Four days in the carriage, road full of bumps and dips, irritable sisters, a tearful mother. Mama finally confessed John had offered nothing to assist us financially and it felt like a fist clenched around my stomach. He is just another man to fail us. How can he abide himself? And Fanny looked so arrogant as we pulled away from Norland I wanted to reach out and tweak her nose in retribution. My rebellion must have shown on my face because Elinor cleared her throat in warning against poor behavior. I realize I am seventeen and supposed to be a lady but since Father died I feel more like Margaret's twelve-year-old contemporary than ever.

Elinor pretended disinterest as we left but she could not hide the one last look she gave Edward. From my seat I could see in that glance that both their hearts were breaking. I cannot comprehend that man! Why will he not fight for my sister? Marianne and Margaret began immediately speaking of how they knew Edward was going to visit soon and even Mama smiled at the thought and encouraged Elinor not to fret about the separation. I knew then Ellie had not told anyone about that last confusing conversation and decided, as it was her secret to keep, I would not speak of it.

Our new house is dreadfully small after Norland. We have to share rooms – Mama and Margaret in one and us three grown girls in another. That leaves us with a room for guests and a room for Tom and Betsy. Elinor and I are quiet women; I know we will be able to live in harmony, but I have so little patience for Marianne's dramatics that I am sure our close proximity will cause difficulties. I do not know how we can be twins – we are so different in every single way.

Oh, the most peculiar thing happened when we arrived late this afternoon; our landlord descended amid a flurry of dogs and demanded we come up to the big house for dinner! He is Mama's cousin, Sir John Middleton, and such a strange man. We tried to beg off but he would not hear of it. It seems the Dashwood women have just been elected as entertainment for the evening.

Bother! Marianne is calling me to help unpack. That means she could not escape and will not let me either. Tomorrow I am going to explore this wild place we've been sent to live. I will describe it more sufficiently then.

**29 June**

I cannot even begin to describe how I feel at this moment. Perhaps I will explain everything but the issue and come back to it after I have distracted myself a bit.

Dinner last night was a new experience for us Dashwoods. To begin, Sir John is so jovial he is often forward and I, for one, do not know how to react to him. Marianne was positively abhorrent of him and, in her usual abrupt way, demonstrated it by not being nearly as polite and ladylike as Mama and Elinore would have preferred. Not that she was blatantly rude. She just refused to sit and listen to the ridiculous conversation after she had eaten her final bite of dinner. Once she had escaped the table she seated herself at the pianoforte and attempted drowned out all further annoying conversation with music.

Lady Middleton's mother, Mrs. Jennings, happened to arrive shortly before dinner and what a garrulous old lady she is! Heavy and self-satisfied, all she could speak of was marrying us Dashwoods off! It was most horrifying, I can assure you. And in all honesty, after what we were subjected to at dinner I truly do not blame Marianne for her brusque behavior once it was completed.

Sir John's family was also rather confusing. Lady Middleton is polite as society dictates but once we had covered all available topics of weather and the ages of her children there was quite literally nothing left to discuss. How I abhor useless conversationalists. Why bother having guests if you are incapable of dialoguing with them?

How ironic that this is the thing that irritated me most about the evening! I, who am most known for finding a corner and curling up with a good book so as to discourage dialogue of any kind! And truthfully I did not attempt much conversation myself but watching Mama and Elinor struggle so was quite enough discomfort for me to simply observe.

The food was delicious and Barton Park a lovely home. I have high hopes of getting a peek at a library there someday soon, once I have ingratiated myself to Sir John sufficiently. It would have been forward to ask about it our first day here, would it not? That is why I did not.

Well, I have circled the thing which has me completely befuddled and now I am going to force myself to write about it. Well, it is not an it; rather, it's a HIM. There was one other guest at dinner last night, an old friend of Sir John's although the basis for their friendship had me puzzled until I learned they had served in the military together. I have read that war can unite men who otherwise would have no common ground. But I am stalling, am I not?

His name is Colonel Brandon. He has honey-colored hair, dark brown eyes, and the most beautiful speaking voice I have ever heard on a man. I seated myself near enough to Mama and Mrs. Jennings to catch the telling of his life's story last night so I feel I know a few pertinent things about him. He is older than I – thirty-five years and has never married. He is not an outright handsome man but his face has character and experience. Mrs. Jennings told Mama that Colonel Brandon suffered a romantic tragedy in his youth and has never recovered from it, hence the unmarried status. Mrs. Jennings also informed Mama that Colonel Brandon is rich and would be quite a catch for one of her girls. What a repulsive attitude to take when speaking of a person's life!

I had opportunity to observe him while Marianne played and sang, for he sat and observed her most intently for the duration of her performance. I do not know if he was truly enraptured or merely just very polite but it was clear his whole attention was focused on Marianne. Admitting such a thing makes my heart ache, just a bit.

I know I am a silly girl with a foolish attraction to a man I have only just met. I have no basis for anything with him and yet…

He possesses great knowledge; this is obvious. Margaret asked a multitude of questions about his experience in the military and he was generous with his conversation. So few grown men will give a little girl a moment of their time. His kind and considerate heart showed through in his treatment of my little sister. And the stories he told – oh yes, I was listening. I am not sure if he realized how big his audience was but it thrilled me to hear him speak of India, of the heat, the constant scent of spiced air, the strange people and creatures he encountered. He certainly charmed Margaret so thoroughly she insisted she was going to join the army when she grew up so he dubbed her "General" and proceeded to call her by that name the rest of the evening. This compassion to my sister won my heart without his realizing. Additionally my mind is starving for some intelligent conversation and I believe a discussion with him would be much like the talks Father and I used to have.

But I fear he noticed me very little. I am not outspoken and prone to perform, like Marianne. I avoid the spotlight and I do not resemble an angel the way she does. There is little to draw the eye to me, the way eyes have always been drawn to Marianne. It has caused so much conflict between us, my envying her the attention and she taking delight in my envy.

Father loved to show her talents off to guests. He was proud of the image she projected: golden curls, golden voice, talented fingers. But when he was sick he admitted to me that he preferred my soft, gentle songs to sooth him over her dramatic theatrics and I'm the one who was most often requested in the sick room to sing or read when Father needed comfort. I try to console myself in this knowledge, to ease the sting of truth that Colonel Brandon's eye was drawn to the angel last night.

And she cannot even see the value in him! She was making fun at breakfast this morning of his age and assumed infirmity. I was offended for him but dared not speak up lest she choose to pick at me next. The last thing I need is Marianne and Margaret teasing me. Fortunately Mama and Elinor both corrected her assumption that a man of 35 was well beyond his prime, so then she took the tack of complaining that he was too reserved, too sensible for her tastes.

I know how Marianne's tastes run. My twin is of the belief that romance, for it to be true, must be full of fire and passion and that a lover must appreciate the arts with as much ardor as he appreciates her. I am of the opinion that Marianne reads too much Shakespeare but I shan't tell her that out loud. No, those conversations are best held within my journal where I can always get the last word.

I have digressed, have I not? In final conclusion, last night I met a delightful man who was courteous to my mother, respectful to my elder sister, admiring of my twin, and engaging to my younger sister. Of me he appeared to take little notice.

During the evening Mrs. Jennings began to sort out all our ages and went into a near fit to learn Marianne and I are twins. She even forced me onto the bench beside Marianne so she might evaluate us side by side. It was certainly one of the more awkward comparisons I have endured in years, since we have been old enough to clearly present ourselves as individuals who just happened to be born of the same woman in the same moment. Mrs. Jennings eventually declared to all company that she could find no similarities between us other than the curliness of our hair and therefore she could not believe we were twins. I was simply glad to escape the piano bench before someone thought to presume I could play like my sister and demand it of me.

I have found a delightful spot beyond the cottage where I can sit and write out of reach of the wind. It is my intent to begin exploring the vast wilderness that seems to surround our new cottage, to see what fun might be gotten up in a place where the nearest neighbor is a mile and the nearest village five. Mama will not have to worry about making a lady out of any of us, for who shall ever find us all the way out here?

Heaven help me, I can see Sir John and Colonel Brandon approaching from the direction of Barton Park. I have to fix my hair and warn Mama!

**12 July**

I am astounded by how much time has passed since I last wrote. It seems remarkable that we could actually be busy way out here in the middle of nowhere.

We have had near daily visitors, mostly Sir John and often Mrs. Jennings but rather frequently Colonel Brandon has come with Sir John and once or twice on his own. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings do keep things lively but they also make my head pound when they are together so I usually try to slip away when I can. People rarely notice my absence, it would seem.

When Sir John and Colonel Brandon visit together I certainly do remain present. I have considered carefully and believe that, using what I learned from conversations with Father, I will present myself to these two gentlemen as a woman who knows what men like to talk about. I will make our conversation so interesting to them they will delight in visiting with me. I have learned to bide my time, waiting for a lull in the standard, boring pleasantries of the visit, but before Mama can suggest Marianne play something, because there will be no conversation once the music begins.

I had my first success at my ploy nearly a week ago when I happened to casually inquire of Sir John the lineage of his pointer bitch. I commented she appeared to have many positive Combermere characteristics and stated I was particularly impressed with her height while wondering if it truly did improve her ability to scent. Colonel Brandon's reaction to my query was most acceptable! He clearly forgot for the moment he was a gentleman because his head spun around (sadly, from where he was studying Marianne) to stare at me as though I had suddenly sprouted feathers. It obviously never occurred to him that a woman, especially one as invisible as I am, could possibly have anything of interest to discuss with grown men. Sir John was, of course, delighted to launch into one of his favorite subjects and was thrilled when he realized that not only could I ask intelligent questions, but I could follow up with intelligent conversation. Colonel Brandon even abandoned his observation of my sister to join our dialogue when urged by Sir John. I must confess I felt quite the victor to successfully engage both men for the majority of their visit.

Mama and Elinore were obviously rather embarrassed for me to reveal my boyish ways but could scarcely say anything when both men declared a thorough enjoyment of the conversation when they took their leave. Ellie did scold me later for being so bold but I reminded her that Father was always proud of my ability to debate with him so why should I be afraid to utilize it in entertaining our guests? She merely shook her head and stated she despaired of me to ever become a lady. The older I get the more doubtful I am that I actually WANT to be a lady.

Since that day I have consistently and successfully conversed with both Colonel Brandon and Sir John on a multitude of subjects and have found they now approach me for new conversation. They were astonished to learn I can capably discuss religion, understand the workings and shortcomings of parliament, and can keep up in a debate about politics. And in turn, I have obtained access to the Barton Park library, which turned out to be rather a disappointment as it is poorly stocked and maintained. Clearly, the Middletons have rare use for such a commodity and have put little effort into creating and utilizing it. And yet I dare not complain as it is a sight better than no books at all.

Colonel Brandon, despite his willingness to emerge from his usual silence to debate with me, is clearly more smitten with Marianne than ever. When he visits he often brings gifts, most usually new music from his home for Marianne to play. While the colonel does little to stir Marianne's blood, even she does not refuse new music so while she plays he sits and listens intently, watching her every move. When she ceases playing he will sometimes initiate conversation with her about poetry, which is her primary passion and she will half-heartedly engage with him for a few moments before lapsing off into uncomfortable silence. It is at these times he will either turn to me to discuss a book we have both read or will excuse himself and leave. It is obvious he comes only for Marianne, who, clearly, is not interested.

Mrs. Jennings, of course, has picked up on his interest and cannot contain her glee at the thought of marrying off the pair of them. She is so single-minded in her teasing that I have begun to flee the moment I catch sight of her approach. Neither will I sit anywhere near her in our frequent visits to Barton Park because when we are there she picks at the poor colonel unmercifully. And he, ever the gentleman, endures with little more than a grimace on his face. He is indeed long-suffering. I simply cannot bear to hear one more time how my dear sister is going to make the loveliest mistress of Delaford. If I do, I promise that I shall scream and be unable to contain it.

And yet, my twin sister has just this day managed to attract the admiring attention of a latecomer to the area, one Mr. John Willoughby of Allenham Court, a near neighbor. He is visiting his aunt and happened to witness Marianne's most unfortunate fall in the rain yesterday, which left her with a twisted ankle and a susceptible heart. Willoughby checked her ankle for a break, hoisted her into his arms, and carried her home like the true hero Marianne, Mama, and Margaret are wont to imagine him as. Even I cannot deny he is comely and dashing. But, alas, he is merely one more lover for Marianne. They are beginning to pile up around our door these days.

This morning the admirers began arriving shortly after breakfast. I could hear Sir John's dogs approaching so I took myself to the garden, not that there's work to be done there this late in the season, but simply to extract myself from the fawning that was about to ensue. I could hear his exclamations of concern from every window in the house and shortly after, from my vantage, I saw the colonel arrive bearing the most beautiful bouquet of hothouse flowers I have seen in a long time. He clearly retrieved them this morning from Delaford, a special trip made just for my sister. He spied me sitting on the hill as he approached the cottage, tipped his hat to me, and went inside.

I was amusing myself with a new story I have been writing (about a child who refuses to grow up and all the ways he invents to avoid the distasteful event) for a scant hour before our next guest arrived with a fist full of wild flowers and nearly drove the previous company off with his presence: Marianne's new favorite, Willoughby. I clearly heard Sir John through the window, announcing to poor Colonel Brandon that their presence was no longer preferred so they might as well be on their way. I flushed with embarrassment for his sake and wished, not for the first time, that our dear relatives and neighbors had more tact and consideration. The two gentlemen walked away together planning the rest of their leisurely day and I found myself longing to be a boy so that even if I could not attract the attentions of Colonel Brandon I might at least be invited to join in the fun that men are allowed but from which women are spurned.

Willoughby remained the rest of the day and when I ventured to return to the house I was surprised to find his company entertaining, his manner pleasing, and his thoughts insightful. He appears to love all things which Marianne loves (whether by sincerity or by design I cannot determine) and she is clearly delighted with him. I see exactly that which concerns Elinor so about Marianne – there is no discretion. Her every thought, every emotion is prominently displayed either by her face or her words. Even I, with my boyish ways know better than to let everyone know what I think and feel at every moment. However, Willoughby seems entirely satisfied with her and I can already see Mama planning their wedding. Something tells me Marianne won't object to speculation of such an event with him the way she did with Colonel Brandon.

I was interested to note Willoughby's flowers prominently displayed in a vase by Marianne's chaise while the delicious flowers brought by the colonel were abandoned in a corner of the hall. I quietly moved them to the dining table where I, at least, would enjoy them at every possible opportunity.


	3. Chapter 3

**31 July**

Margaret and I have just returned from the most delightful wander through the countryside only to find Willoughby by Marianne's side again. I do not dislike Willoughby, really, but it sometimes feels as though the Dashwood home revolves around his presence. In exchange for the daily visit of Willoughby, we have lost the regular visits from Colonel Brandon. I believe Elinor and I are the only ones to even notice his absence and indeed, I regret it the most.

Willoughby and Marianne are constant companions: at our home during the day and at Barton Park most evenings. Sir John seems determined to fill our time with the entertainments he delights in arranging and truly, there are few evenings without an invitation for a dance or other diversion. I find I do not mind the dances as much as I had feared, for despite his clear preference for Marianne, Colonel Brandon has proved to be the consummate gentleman and has obligingly asked both Elinor and myself to dance at least once per evening. The thrill of spinning round the floor as his partner surely means more to me than it does to him, but to merely be chosen even as a matter of politeness warms me toward him even further.

Mama seems most content with the way our lives have settled. Elinor and I have endeavored to accomplish Margaret's education as much as we are able; Elinor assuming responsibility for French and numbers and myself with history and writing. Marianne is supposed to be teaching her to play the pianoforte but indeed spares little time from Willoughby to be bothered with her sister.

I should be happy for Marianne, should I not? For she has found the exact man she once despaired could exist and he delights in her equally as much. By all accounts they will be remarkably happy together.

Truly, my dislike for Willoughby comes from a more personal reason and that is his unconcealed dislike for Colonel Brandon. Indeed, he is quite vocal in his opinion of the man and admittedly without just cause. Once Willoughby dared voice his dislike Marianne seemed to take it as permission (for Willoughby can do no wrong in her eyes) to follow his lead and express her own dislike for a man who has been nothing but admiring and kind to her. Elinor spoke up in his defense, much to my relief, and reprimanded them both for being uncharitable to a man who is (in her words) sensible, well-bred, well-informed, and amiable.

And Elinor should know. In the face of Marianne's obvious delight with Willoughby, Elinor and Colonel Brandon have found themselves in company more often than before. I try not to be resentful that he would seek out Elinor. This dear sister certainly deserves the attention of a man so worthy of her and I do not have the right to dislike her for it. I obviously have nothing of value that he is interested in, though it makes my heart ache to admit such a thing.

Yet I truly do not believe he fancies Elinor as anything more than a friend for despite their frequent conversations, his eyes remain on Marianne and Willoughby while they talk.

I worry for Elinor; not that she will lose her heart to the colonel as I am certain Edward still holds possession of that particular organ. But we have been from Norland these two months with no word in any way from Edward. I did not expect as much after overhearing that last bewildering conversation but I have hoped I would be wrong in my assessment of him and that he would come once he got free of Fanny's manipulations.

Elinor says nothing, reveals nothing, mourns nothing. She is the picture of propriety itself. But I know she remembers and I know she feels his absence. For last week when I was helping Betsy with the laundry, I found a man's handkerchief in Ellie's dress pocket embroidered with the initials EMF. Since discovering it, I have noticed that during those infrequent moments when she sits and stares into the distance, she does so with her hand in the pocket of the handkerchief. I do not know if she is aware of that particular habit but I most assuredly understand the emotion she experiences during those times.

**4 August**

A most unexpected thing occurred last night when we were at the Park for the evening. I have not yet decided if it was good or bad; that will undoubtedly be determined in the future. I had taken along the little story I have been writing and thought to work on it in my expected solitude whilst card games and conversation went on around me.

My family knows my passion for writing silly things that come into my head and when I am particularly delighted with one I will share it with them in a little informal recitation. Willoughby is now aware of my hobby as well, as he was present one day when Marianne begged to know what had me giggling in the corner. I was reluctant to share it in his presence but no amount of protestation on my part would convince them to allow me peace. It was well-received and earned approval from all present, which lifted my spirits considerably.

On the evening last, however, Willoughby was behaving in a most aggravating manner. Perhaps he was bored or looking to create some excitement. Perhaps he feels so comfortably a part of my family that I am simply another sister to tease. I know not of his intentions but I know the embarrassment he caused me.

You see, he snuck up on me whilst I was writing, snatched my story from under my quill, and proceeded to inform the company that I would be entertaining all with my latest masterpiece. I do not recite in public, or on demand. My stories are for my own amusement, and for those with whom I choose to share. In truth, I greatly fear to be laughed at for the musings of my imagination and know that an audience which includes Sir John and Mrs. Jennings is not likely to be generous. I realize they are not intentionally malicious but thoughtlessness can hurt as badly as deliberate meanness.

Marianne immediately joined Willoughby in demanding I share my story, which led Sir John and Mrs. Jennings to also begin clamoring for me to contribute to the evening's entertainment. I saw Elinor and Colonel Brandon observing me; Elinor with sympathy, being well aware of my dislike for being the center of attention, and the colonel with curiosity. I realized I could either be a very poor sport and end up looking like a petulant child or I could shakily gather my courage around me and share something personal. And it is not as though I have never been laughed at; it has not killed me before and would not likely this time.

I requested ten more minutes to finish writing and it was granted. Truly, the story was finished – I had merely been checking the wording to make sure I was satisfied with the final presentation. I used those ten minutes to convince myself that I could do this without fainting or running from the room in terror. When Elinor approached to encourage me and tell me she was proud of me I knew I could do it, if only to continue making my sister proud. I would not even allow myself to consider what Colonel Brandon might think of my foolishness.

When my minutes were up I stood, gathered my work, cleared my throat, and moved to stand beside the pianoforte to give the best vantage to my audience. I started reading in a rather shaky, weak voice which made me cringe inside but I pushed on, and as both I and my audience became engrossed in the story, I was able to read with proper energy and enthusiasm. A quick glance assured me that everyone was listening carefully and no one was openly mocking me yet.

When I finished there was a moment of silence, as though everyone was considering what they just heard, before they broke into applause. I held my breath and looked at the faces of my audience. Elinor was beaming with pride while Mama, Marianne and Willoughby looked satisfied. Lady Middleton appeared to be distastefully astonished but as this was similar to her usual look I did not let it concern me. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings were effusive with their enthusiastic clapping. I had saved Colonel Brandon for last, fearing his reaction the most. I was heartened to see his smile had reached his eyes, which, to me, meant he was pleased and perhaps a little surprised to learn the invisible Emmeline could be as delightful as her twin.

**16 August**

I am so furious with Marianne! She is the most self-involved, thoughtless girl. I know Elinor already spoke to her of this unacceptable behavior but she just laughed it off, caring not that she has left herself and indeed our whole family open to impertinent remarks of impropriety. She went driving with Willoughby today and ended up in Allenham ALONE with him.

It had promised to be a most lovely day, with even the weather choosing to cooperate. Colonel Brandon had invited our entire party for a drive and day at his cousin's home of Whitwell. We were gathered bright and early and the carriages were assembling when a rider came bearing a message for the colonel which disturbed him so greatly he departed immediately for London with extreme regrets for ruining our party but no explanation, regardless of how rudely Mrs. Jennings tried to force one out of him. I am so out of patience with that woman.

At any rate, there was no dissuading the colonel to abandon his plans (and indeed I did not wish to for the look upon his face told of great hope alongside great anxiety) and he left with barely a goodbye and an indication he would not likely return to Barton any time soon. Once he had quitted our group it was decided a ride about the countryside would be an acceptable alternative to our day and so we proceeded. This is the point where Marianne joined Willoughby in his curricle and they were not seen again until dinner.

Mrs. Jennings, of course, learned of where they'd been (that woman must have informants all over the country to have so quickly uncovered such a thing) and immediately began teasing Marianne about it. I was as horrified as Elinor looked but there was nothing either of us could do as Marianne and Willoughby did not deny the accusations.

The only conclusion Ellie and I could reach is that they must be engaged, to willingly participate in such scandalous behavior. But if they are, why will they not confess as much? I cannot understand the point behind this secrecy. Mama refuses to ask Marianne about it, insisting we will all wait for it to be revealed in their own timing.

**7 October**

Colonel Brandon has been gone for three weeks. I did not know it was possible to so strongly miss someone with whom I rarely interacted, but of whom I was always aware. My whole being longs to hear his voice, and I most embarrassingly confess to sitting nearer Sir John and Mrs. Jennings than usual, in hopes that news from him will be mentioned. How I wish he would miss me as achingly as I miss him. I am doomed to misery, am I not?

Something unexpected has occurred between Marianne and Willoughby, but explanations from neither of them are forthcoming. All I know is Willoughby is gone to town, sent away by his aunt, and Marianne is miserable and will not speak of it. Mama and Elinor are as confused as I am. Willoughby departed in a most disturbing manner and refused to accept Mama's very generous invitation to come back to Barton as our guest, if he were not to be welcomed by his aunt again this year. Elinor feels something more serious is going on but Mama is horrified at the suggestion that Willoughby is anything but what we have always thought him to be. I am inclined to agree with Elinor.

We Dashwood girls are quite the mess. Marianne knows she is loved and mourns the loss of her beloved. Elinor knows not if she is loved but mourns the separation from her beloved. I know that I am not loved and yet mourn something I will likely never have. What kind of fool am I? What kind of fools are we all?

**15 October**

Edward has come! I will be all ears so as not to miss anything noteworthy. Oh, that one of us sisters might find some happiness…

**22 October**

And he is gone already. I have observed and listened with all my might and the only thing I know for sure is that neither Elinor nor Mama nor Marianne nor Margaret has any idea if Edward has intentions toward Elinor.

When he arrived he was in high spirits but in the time it took to walk from the lane to the cottage he became quiet and withdrawn again. When he greeted Mama he once again regained his joviality, to the degree that Edward has ever been jovial, at any rate. Conversation with him was delightful before he would turn sullen and silent. His behavior was mercurial and bewildering. I often thought he was delighted to be here with us but at the same time it pained him more than he could bear. His behavior toward Elinor, particularly, was as reserved as it ever was; he seemed determined to treat her no differently than he did any of us.

When talk would come of his leaving, he became particularly pained, and yet would vocalize the unavoidable need to indeed leave soon. I believe he knows no more what he wants than we do. Or perhaps he is more under his sister's and, therefore, his mother's control than we realize.

Our week with our adopted brother was lovely and much too short. I wish I understood him better. Maybe then I would know how to comfort Elinor. She is no different now than she was before he came. Marianne rails against her for demonstrating no emotion at his leaving – so completely opposite of Marianne's weeping and moroseness – that she believes her to be completely unfeeling in the matter. And yet I know better, for Elinor's hand has been in her handkerchief pocket nearly every hour since he left.


	4. Chapter 4

**2 November**

The most frightfully tedious girls are visiting Barton Park – the Misses Steele. Anne, the eldest at nearly 30 is foolish, simpering and mindless. She can talk of nothing but what is before her and makes me want to do myself bodily harm just to get away from her horrible conversation. She thinks only of beaux which leads me to believe she has never had one of her own. Her younger sister, Lucy, is slightly better. At any rate she is aware of how terrible her sister is and does her best to end her foolish speech before it becomes too unbearable.

And yet, Lucy herself is tolerable for little longer than her sister. She is uneducated, speaks her mind of that which she knows nothing, and seems inclined to use her words to make digs at people with whom she is upset, but does it in such a way that one is left wondering if she gave insult or mere comment.

Sir John is delighted with the Misses Steele and in turn declares them delighted with us with the intent of throwing us all together at every possible opportunity. We simply cannot escape them.

There is something else that makes me worry. I do not like Lucy, and not just because she is indelicate and common. She has been intentionally seeking out Elinor, speaking exclusively, taking walks that do not include anyone else. And Ellie has come away from those talks looking pale and pained.

Elinor will say nothing to me, no matter how I question her. But I know something has occurred, regardless of how stoic El is capable of behaving, because I have also seen something else. Lucy carries a handkerchief with the same monogramming as the one Ellie keeps in her dress pocket. I do not know what any of this means except that it is hurting my sister.

**20 December**

Christmas is nearly upon us! Our little house is so full of secrets, for though there is much melancholy amongst us, even heart-sickness cannot squelch the wonder of the season! I have been busy creating a nature book for Margaret, using plants and shells and bits of things we have found on our wanderings, and got Ellie to do some drawings for me. I borrowed a reference book from Sir John's meager library and am carefully labeling everything so the book will be educational as well as fun and reminiscent.

For Marianne I scraped up enough coins to slip to Mrs. Jennings who assisted me in obtaining new music for the pianoforte. Mama is getting three new skeins of wool for her knitting and Elinor shall receive the most beautiful set of pastels I luckily came across in the village. Indeed, shopping has become such a challenge with our limited options at this location. But it is just as well, I realize, as we have no money to spend anyway!

We will be going to the Park for Christmas dinner and it is my deepest wish that Colonel Brandon might return by then. I know Sir John has received word from him on occasion but rarely is there news of when we might see him again. Another smile from him like the one I received after my recitation is the only Christmas gift I need this year. It was a smile of possibility…and I think on it far too often, I fear.

Lucy and Anne are still in residence at the Park. Why anyone would intentionally extend their visit (as I know Sir John has done repeatedly) is beyond my sensibilities. That they believe themselves to be our intimates is astonishing to me. I, for one, will not mourn their departure and I know Marianne and Elinor both heartily agree with me on the subject.

I find I miss Father very much at this time of year…

**2 January**

We are going to town, with Mrs. Jennings, can you imagine? I can scarcely know how this has happened and fear I feel as wild as Marianne appears. I know for certain she already has a letter to Willoughby written and secured in her bag to post the moment she has opportunity. They must be engaged…

As for me, it is my greatest wish to see Colonel Brandon, if only for a moment. He might visit when he hears we are in town, might he not? Even if only to see Marianne? How pathetic I am.

Meanwhile Elinor does not appear to anticipate the possibility of seeing Edward in any way. She truly has an amazing command of her emotions but I wish I could see something of eagerness in her eyes. There is always a chance he will be in London when we are and he would certainly visit if given the opportunity, would he not? I am not sure why, but I think Ellie looks wistful in a different way than she used to, before meeting Lucy Steele. I am certain that vixen is the cause of El's lack of hope.

We leave in three days and there's so much to organize. None of us has new gowns and surely what was considered fashion when we had money to buy new things will look terribly outdated. Yet, what can we do? Simply hold our chins high with false confidence, I imagine! Marianne frets the most, as if the clothes she wore when in Willoughby's company in the country are unacceptable to be seen in town. His being a man, I wager he will never notice what she is wearing anyway.

**9 January**

After three days in a carriage with my sisters and Mrs. Jennings I was ready to explode when we finally arrived this afternoon! Marianne was so engrossed in her dreams of Willoughby that she barely spoke the entire journey. Thus Elinor and I were left to converse with Mrs. Jennings and I must confess I soon tired of it. The lady herself is a dear, so concerned and solicitous to our comfort was she. But she is just so silly sometimes, and repetitive in her observations. My Ellie's patience astounds me.

The instant we alighted from the carriage Marianne had her letter out in the 2-penny post and Elinor and I exchanged meaningful glances. Ellie was a good, dutiful daughter and wrote to Mama immediately while Marianne paced through our rooms and I entertained myself looking out the window. It feels amazing to be surrounded by people again after the near seclusion of our little cottage home. And, oh, the number of times a knock at the next house would lead to Mari's jumping in excitement, only to be disappointed again. I did my best not to laugh out loud at her!

After dinner we were having tea in the drawing room and her anxiety had clearly doubled and tripled during the course of the evening. Every carriage must be his, every knock his fist, every footstep his approach. Her twitchiness was driving me to distraction and I believe we were all relieved when the resounding knock was clearly heard upon our own residence.

Marianne immediately jumped up, proclaimed the arrival of her Willoughby and proceeded to wait by the door, as if to throw herself in his arms the moment he entered. I would have laughed, had our visitor not actually been Colonel Brandon, but Marianne's disappointment was palpable. She rushed from the room gracelessly with the colonel's eyes following her escape. He was, of course, concerned for her health in light of her obvious distress. Between us, Elinor and I attempted to encourage him that she was well enough, but wearied from the journey.

Our conversation continued with Elinor and the colonel supplying most of the words while I simply drank in the sight and sound of him. I felt full of satisfied delight when his eyes turned to me to inquire of my health after our trip, as well as that of our little "General" left at home and to ask if I had written anything new in his absence. I fear that I exercised as little caution as Marianne is wont to and that my affection for him was displayed across my face as we discoursed. Elinor's eyes certainly held more humor than usual as they looked upon me and I suspect she suddenly realized my deepest secret had been revealed.

The moment was broken with the arrival of Mrs. Jennings, who quickly took note of my overjoyed face and came to the same conclusion as Elinor. Mrs. Jennings, unfortunately, does not have control of her tongue the way Ellie does and she immediately launched into a monologue revolving around how comforting it must be to the colonel, for if he had to lose the affections of Miss Marianne to Willoughby, at least her twin sister could take her place. After all, are not twins interchangeable?

I sincerely began to wonder if I might be successful in throwing myself to my death through the nearest window in order to escape the humiliation by which I found myself surrounded. My face flushed and I intently studied my hands, the roaring in my ears completely blocking out anything further that might have been spoken. It took more strength than I realized I possessed to keep my tears at bay. Never would I have wanted my feelings for the colonel to come to light in so callous and frivolous a manner. I am sure he was only dismayed to be informed the invisible sister cared for him in any way.

When a cup of tea was placed in front of me I finally redirected my eyes away from my tangled fingers. I saw Marianne slide back into her seat beside me, evidence of tears still present upon her cheeks as well and for some reason that knowledge gave me the courage to swallow down my own emotional vulnerability and once again join the conversation at the table. Ellie's eyes immediate met mine in concern and I managed a shaky smile to keep her from worrying. But not for anything could I look at the colonel again. I was terrified to see scorn at my foolish hopes displayed across his face.

As soon as it was polite to do so, I excused myself and escaped to bed where I pretended to be asleep when Elinor checked on me later in the evening. I cannot sleep, of course, and waited until El and Marianne both were breathing soundly before creeping out of bed to light a candle and document the whole horrific thing here in my journal.

**12 January**

The colonel has been to visit every day since we arrived and I have gradually become comfortable in his presence again. He has made no mention of Mrs. Jennings's indiscreet comments and has treated me nearly the same as he did before, spending his time talking with Elinor and looking at Marianne. And yet I perceive some slight changes in his behavior as on more than one occasion in the past few days I have looked up from my writing to observe him looking at ME. He has not done this before, to my knowledge, and I can't help but think he hears Mrs. Jennings's words in his head and wonders if twins really are interchangeable. I cannot even take a thrill in that thought as it means he would have no interest in me for my own merit, but merely because I was more attainable than my sister. I would rather he not want me at all than to want me because I am almost my sister. No, I refuse to think such uncharitable thoughts about him. He is a good man, this I know, and better than to be so callous toward any woman.

I have begun reading Scott again and when the colonel inquired of my interest he was delighted at my choice. As it is not my first time through the book we were able to enter into a lively discussion which Elinor joined and we had a lovely time "being intellectual" as Father would call it. I think Father would have sincerely enjoyed Colonel Brandon's company.

Other than the colonel's visits we have had little to occupy ourselves. Marianne mopes about the place, listening intently for any knock or ringing of the bell and falls sullen when it is not her favorite. Elinor worries about her health but no amount of cajoling will convince Marianne to tell either of us anything. When invited to go about town with the Palmers and Mrs. Jennings, she declines to leave the house, even for shopping! When we eventually convince her to venture out with us she spends all of her time scanning the crowds for Willoughby's face or familiar hat (as though all fashionable young men in London are not wearing black beaver hats this season). She is useless for helping to make choices or have an opinion about anything. I find her single-mindedness most aggravating.

Ellie ventured to speak with me about the colonel when we found ourselves with a moment's privacy. I love her for her delicacy, particularly when compared to Mrs. Jennings. At her gentle inquiry into my feelings for the man I confessed it all. It is such a relief to be able to speak of it with someone, particularly someone who loves me.


	5. Chapter 5

**15 January**

The Middletons have arrived in town and immediately begun planning parties and dances, much to Sir John's delight. That man wants nothing more than a house full of frivolity. I wonder that he can be such good friends with as somber a man as Colonel Brandon.

We attended a ball at the Middleton's last night and Marianne was so vexed to not meet Willoughby there she refused to dance at all most of the night. On our way back to Berkeley Street Mrs. Jennings commented on Willoughby's absence with surprise, stating she knew he had been invited that very day by Sir John himself when they met on the street.

Marianne reacted poorly. Not only was it confirmed Willoughby was in town but he had deliberately missed an event which she was certain to attend. Upon reaching our rooms she immediately sat down to write him again, nearly spattering ink on the desk in her haste to document her distress. It was sent by two-penny mail directly following breakfast. I know it is wicked of me but how dearly would I love to know what she writes to him!

It was no surprise when Colonel Brandon arrived shortly after breakfast but the anxiety on his face gave some cause for alarm. Marianne had escaped the room when she saw him through the window so it was only Elinor and I to receive him. The usual pleasantries were exchanged and we sat, waiting for the colonel to speak his mind and yet he would not. His eyes would flick to me and then he would look away again in discomfort. It finally occurred to me that perhaps he did not want me to be privy to what he needed to discuss. So I made up an excuse and fled, leaving him to pour out his heart to Elinor.

I paced our suite from wall to wall, frequently checking out the window to see if he had left yet. My imagination conjured a multitude of things he would want to discuss with Elinor that I could not hear and few of them were good. I fervently wish I could abandon my attraction for this man, since it is obviously only going to lead me to heartache.

I was leaning against the window when he left and he paused in the street, looked up and saw me there. A sad smile crossed his features and he tipped his hat to me before walking away. By the time I had turned around again Ellie was there. She tried to reassure me it was not as dismal as I had imagined but that the colonel was inquiring as to the validity of the statement he had heard from several different sources claiming Marianne and Willoughby were engaged. I cannot imagine where all this conjecture is coming from and why it is being stated as fact without any proof to back it up.

I cannot help but feel the reason he did not want me present for his inquisition of Elinor is that he does not want me to be aware he is still harboring a hope that it is not too late for him to have a chance with my sister. I suppose I should be grateful at his consideration for my feelings. However, it is hard to not be anything but bitter.

**19 January**

This very night we attended a party with Lady Middleton and fairly had to drag Marianne along. There had still been no word from Willoughby, either by visit or letter and Ellie and I were at our wits end to know what to do about it. I know Elinor wrote to Mama about this strange situation, hoping maybe word from Mama directly to Mari might convince her to speak of it to her sisters. She sits before the fire most days, caring neither for her clothes nor hair nor food, slowly fading away from us.

And who should we see shortly after arriving but Willoughby! Marianne was almost hysterical to catch sight of him and when he would hardly approach her and then speak only to Elinor before excusing himself and leaving the room, she nearly fainted. She was practically catatonic the rest of the night.

I am certain I do not understand what is happening between them. She acts as though they are engaged and he as if they are only casual acquaintances. She still refuses to speak of it.

**20 January**

Mari wrote another emotion-filled letter to Willoughby first thing this morning and had an answer by the time breakfast was over. El and I gave her only a little time alone before we descended to demand information. Marianne was emotionally overwrought. She let us read his letter and I could see scattered around her on the bed were all the notes she had sent him, along with a long lock of hair that could only have been Marianne's.

His letter was more cruel than I could have imagined. It breaks my heart to think we loved him and had intended to welcome him into our family, when he could be so cold and heartless. It is as if the obvious regard we witnessed between him and Marianne had never occurred or had, at the least, been false. If I were a man I would challenge him to a duel, for this deception he has perpetrated against my sister.

Because, you see, he claims to have been already engaged before he even met Marianne and that it was never his intention to make her think he cared for her in any capacity. He is a foul and vile man. I hate him even more than I hate Fanny.

And yet, when I spoke my feelings Marianne defended him, saying he had not broken faith with her because they had never been engaged. Not engaged! After all the time she spent alone with him, touring Allenham and WRITING to him! It is no wonder the gossipmongers were having such a fun time with their stories. And yet I can find little fault with her. She acted on the feelings of her heart, however unwisely, and he has taken advantage horribly.

The worst news was yet to arrive. Mrs. Jennings burst in out of breath from the hurry she exerted to be the first to tell what she had just learned. Willoughby's engagement to a Miss Grey had just been announced. It seems Miss Grey is worth fifty thousand pounds. And it suddenly all became clear. Willoughby had chosen money over love. And my sister is the one who will pay the price. I happen to agree with Mrs. Jennings's sentiment. I hope his wife makes him miserable and he regrets for the rest of his life the choice he made.

Colonel Brandon arrived during tea and looked around the room for Marianne, seeming glad to not see her. Mrs. Jennings was out for the afternoon so it was only El and me to receive him. He once again had the look on his face which indicated he had something serious to discuss. I looked intently at him and then rose to excuse myself, assuming he would want a private audience with Elinor. He quickly held up his hand and said, resignedly, that he imagined I might hear this as well, so both of us would be able to decide how best to counsel our sister.

The story he told was even more tragic than that of Marianne. He assumed we had heard from Mrs. Jennings of his past, the story of a girl he had loved in his youth from whom he was separated by his father. She was married to his brother and he was shipped off to the military. When his tour was over and he came home it was to learn his brother had treated the girl, Eliza, badly and she responded in kind. The result of her indiscretion led to his brother divorcing her after only two years of marriage.

The young Brandon used every resource at his disposal to locate her, eventually finding her languishing in a poorhouse, only days from death. She had a young daughter, whom the colonel agreed to raise as his ward. As he had no home of his own he found a family to raise her and he cared for her through visits and monetary support. It was this girl, this daughter of his own lost Eliza, who had been seduced by Willoughby, at the age of fourteen, and then abandoned by him, while she carried his child.

Tears poured down my cheeks; I was incapable of concealing the depth of my ache for this poor ruined girl but also for my dear Colonel Brandon. That he, who is of such a caring heart, should have lived through so much loss and pain only to have it repeated in the child of the woman he loved. He said Marianne had always reminded him of his lost Eliza, in both her appearance and enthusiasm for life and vivacity of spirit. I can understand a little better why he would prefer Marianne over me. And I suppose now, with Willoughby out of the picture, the colonel will get the chance he has been hoping for. I pray it does not kill me to watch it happen.

Elinor, who still contains her emotions better than I ever will, was able to thank the colonel for sharing this with us and assured him we would determine best what of it to tell Marianne. As the colonel had readied himself to depart Elinor excused herself to check on Marianne. I used the opportunity to inquire after the girl, also named Eliza. When Colonel Brandon said she was still in town but that he intended to move her and her new baby to the country within a few days, I asked if I might be able to meet her.

I think my request shocked him. I know the situation is not entirely proper but I cannot help feeling for this poor girl. She must be lonely and fearful. I know if it was I, having a friend to talk to would be an immense consolation, as she is so sadly without any sisters to take care of her. When Colonel Brandon began to offer reasons it would be inappropriate I persisted, explaining my reasoning. I believe I finally convinced him when I told him I wanted to be the sister she never had. I could see in his eyes how much it meant to him to have another person care about this girl as he does.

Finally he agreed that he would take me if I could secure permission from both Ellie and Mrs. Jennings, as I was under her protection while we were in town. I already knew convincing him had been the most difficult task of the three. He told me he would make the arrangements for a visit two days hence and then excused himself.

I joined Elinor and together we took on the difficult task of telling Marianne of Willoughby's true nature. Now I am to bed because this has been a very trying day.

**22 January**

I just heard the most amazing thing after dinner tonight! Sir John was talking to Mr. Parker and didn't realize I could hear, although I certainly did not intend to eavesdrop. That seems to happen to me more often than it should. It seems that Colonel Brandon actually dueled with Willoughby over the situation with Eliza! I know such things ought not thrill me so, and I imagine if it were any other man whom I had heard of dueling I would be rather horrified. And yet there is something so noble (and romantic) in knowing that Colonel Brandon is willing to risk his life to defend the honor of someone he holds dear. I am being foolish again, aren't I?

I met Eliza today and got to hold her dear little baby. The baby was so sweet and tiny; I don't believe I have held a baby since Margaret was born and that was so long ago I can scarcely remember it. The colonel stayed with us long enough to ensure we would have things enough to talk over and then he left on some errand while I set myself toward getting to know Eliza. She is only just now out of bed and truly seemed pleased with my company, as she has been isolated by circumstance for so long. I took along two of my stories, figuring if we lacked for conversation she might enjoy reading something frivolous. Yet we had no need for them as I believe I have found a kindred spirit in dear Eliza. We talked of all things we enjoy and two hours passed without us knowing it! Colonel Brandon returned with such speed, so we thought, and we did not believe he had been gone as long as he said. The three of us (well, four if you count the dear baby) had tea before the colonel and I left and I promised Eliza I would do all within my power to not lose her friendship. Once she is settled in the country she promises to write and we will maintain each other through letters until we can be in company again.

The colonel seemed exceedingly pleased to find his ward so happy with my visit and he spoke to me quite freely in our return trip to Berkeley Street. It was delightful to have his full attention and pleasure focused on me and I was quite disappointed to discover we had arrived so quickly at our destination. I encouraged him to come in to greet my sisters and he agreed with good spirits.

Marianne has emerged from our rooms and seems in full control of herself so long as no one mentions Willoughby in her presence. She even prevailed upon herself to speak to Colonel Brandon briefly in response to his gentle attentions. I believe she has softened toward him since learning of his trials. I am trying to not begrudge her his affection, as my dear sister needs someone to love her properly and heal her of the wounds perpetrated by Willoughby. Though it pains me to confess, I believe Colonel Brandon could be the man she needs.

**1 February**

Mama has written since being informed of all that happened and encourages us to stay in town, believing Marianne to heal faster away from Barton, which contains so many memories of Willoughby. Marianne wants only to go home and be comforted by Mama in person but has agreed to follow her wishes. She was rather improved these past days until word of Willoughby's marriage reached us. She has since withdrawn to her bedroom once more.

And horror of all, John and Fanny are soon to be in town and Mama wants us to stay long enough to see them. I have no words to express my displeasure.

**8 February - morning**

Colonel Brandon has brought me word of Eliza and a most welcomed letter! She writes she is settled in a comfortable spot, the baby is well, and they are both taken care of by a lovely nurse. She wishes she were close enough for me to call again (as do I) but tells me the colonel promised he would find a way to facilitate another visit between us soon. I will write her tomorrow and until then will try to think of the most delightful things to tell her.

We've had more bad news – the Misses Steele have arrived in town and immediately paid us a visit. I could see Elinor visibly pull herself in when their arrival was announced. She is certainly more pale in Lucy Steele's presence than at any other time. How I dislike that girl!

We were required to attend a dinner party last evening at John and Fanny's home. And what a horrific evening it was. I had hopes of Edward being there to at least lift Elinor's spirits but that was not to be.

Dinner was ridiculously extravagant; clearly John is endeavoring to spend the money he has not given to help his sisters by living a gilded lifestyle. We also had the displeasure (don't let El read this honest opinion!) to meet Fanny and Edward's mother. Mrs. Ferrars is as malicious a personality as her daughter and seemed particularly intent on being insulting and offensive to Elinor. Marianne took great offense to this (she has been remarkably more kindhearted toward others since having her own broken so recently) and was offensive in return, which caused Fanny offense and John offense. It was ended when Marianne burst into tears and sobbed into Elinor's shoulder, shocking everyone in the room. It certainly was an eventful evening, one I hope to never experience again.

My goodness – I just heard Edward announced but I know for a fact Lucy Steele is already here visiting with Elinor! I've got to go see what is taking place in the sitting room.

**8 February – afternoon**

Something dramatic just occurred but I have no idea what it was. Marianne and I both were effusive in our delight to see Edward and while he expressed pleasure at our presence in town as well, there was disquiet in his eyes and awkwardness to his manner that belied comfort in our presence. Then again, Lucy Steele was also acting unusually quiet and withdrawn, but with a bizarre smirk upon her lips which I could make nothing of. Edward appeared so unsettled. He would not visit, nor ask questions and could barely be imposed upon to speak at all. He stayed but ten minutes before remembering an appointment and nearly ran from the house. Lucy also left shortly after, much to our relief.

Ellie has nothing to say about the situation and I am bewildered.


	6. Chapter 6

**23 February**

Mrs. Palmer has had her baby which means Mrs. Jennings spends all her days with her daughter and has arranged, much to her satisfaction but not so to ours, for us to spend our time without her with Lady Middleton and the Steele girls. The past two weeks have been tedious indeed. Colonel Brandon infrequently visits at the Middleton's but there is scant opportunity for real conversation when we are surrounded by the insipid Anne and Lucy.

Oh how I wish something interesting would happen!

**25 February**

I just re-read the last sentence in my previous journal entry and wonder if perhaps I brought this mess upon us. For indeed, something has happened.

It has become common knowledge that Edward Ferrars has been engaged to Lucy Steele for the past FOUR YEARS. It seems unfathomable, does it not?

Finally, Elinor has spoken of the whole mess to Marianne and me. She knew about this for months, since Lucy confided in her at Barton, but as she had agreed to keep Lucy's secret she couldn't say anything about it before now. It is no wonder my poor sister always looked so ill after talking with Lucy. I would not put it past that vile girl to have been aware to some degree of Elinor's attachment to Edward and to have gone out of her way to rub her engagement to him in my sister's face every time they were together. She is jealous and mean-spirited enough to do such a thing.

And this certainly explains the awkward visit from Edward while Lucy was present! It is so confusing. We know he had strong feelings for Elinor even at Norland. I think I understand his incomplete speech from the barn a bit better now.

You can well imagine Fanny's reaction to the news (I understand it was Anne who let it slip, can you envision?) was one of hysteria and that the esteemed Mrs. Ferrars quickly followed suit. Apparently Mrs. Ferrars has been working to arrange a marriage to a woman of status AND wealth for Edward and this previous engagement certainly disrupts the plans she has made.

We heard straight from John that Mrs. Ferrars gave Edward an ultimatum – break his engagement to Lucy or be disowned and lose his inheritance to his brother. Edward proved to be the gentleman we knew him to be and chose to honor his commitment to Lucy and give up the future his mother had planned out for him. Had he not entangled himself with a most horrible woman I would be proud of him.

**11 March**

We are finally beginning to talk of going home – I for one have had more than enough of life in town. I desperately desire the freedom of Barton to roam at will and work in the garden and sit in the sunshine and write to my heart's content. In my opinion we cannot get back soon enough.

There will be a detour in Cleveland with the Palmers for a week at most before our servant, Tom, will come and retrieve us. Just think, in less than three weeks we could be home!

**16 March**

The absolute most amusing incident occurred today! Colonel Brandon had come for a visit and took advantage of an opportunity to speak to Elinor as privately as possible with Mrs. Jennings, Marianne and myself in the room. Mari was playing the pianoforte and I was turning pages for her and quietly singing along (our relationship has improved so much in the past weeks; it's as though we have never been of differing opinions). Mrs. Jenning should not have been able to hear much of the conversation between the colonel and El, due to her proximity to the music. Despite the drawbacks I could see she was listening as intently as she could.

Well, she received her due for eavesdropping – a delightfully entertaining misunderstanding. She thought she heard Colonel Brandon propose to Elinor and heartily congratulated her on it after he left! We girls laughed so hard at that once we were finally able to escape Mrs. Jennings and hide in our rooms, after firmly disavowing her misunderstanding, of course!

What the colonel was actually discussing with Ellie was the pastoral living at Delaford, which he meant to offer to Edward once he had obtained his ministerial orders. Have I not previously extolled Colonel Brandon's virtues? His generosity to a stranger because he knows him to be a friend of our family makes me extremely proud to be associated with him. He is such a considerate man.

Elinor told Edward of it today and you cannot imagine how pleased he was, despite his disbelief that Ellie would want to have any association with him after the hurt he has caused her. I feel for them both. Elinor would have been very happy with Edward and I fear Edward will be very unhappy with Lucy.

**30 March**

Tomorrow we leave London and my heart rejoices not only to be gone from this place, but also with the knowledge that Colonel Brandon is following to Cleveland. I take more comfort in his presence than I probably ought.

**6 April**

Marianne has gone above and beyond this time. I knew she was apprehensive to come to Cleveland, so near to Willoughby's home at Combe Magna, but never believed she would do something so foolish as this. I can only believe she wanted to see the house she had so long expected to become her home, for two days after we arrived she disappeared during the afternoon walk she was taking through the grounds. No one feared for her until the rain began and still she did not return. We quickly searched the gardens but she was not to be found. It was then I realized where she had likely gone.

I was determined in my solution and intended to not leave it for anyone else to resolve. I quickly spoke to Mr. Palmer about borrowing a horse, one suited to a woman riding bareback. He clearly understood my intentions and chose to argue about the suitableness of my plan. Expecting this I informed him that if he did not support my request I would simply go to the barn and select one myself but that my chances of getting a reliable mount would be vastly improved with his assistance. When he realized my determination he called a groom and set him about bringing a horse appropriate to my needs. I set off immediately, a hooded wool cloak wrapped tightly around me.

I am positive that as I left the drive I could hear Elinor calling to me from the door but I dared not turn back, lest my plans be thwarted by those with good intentions. Colonel Brandon quickly caught up with me – I have the impression he was already saddling his horse when the groom went to retrieve mine. I could see he intended to send me back so I spoke before he could and told him that while I sincerely appreciated his concern for my welfare, I knew where my sister had gone and I would not be bullied by anyone into doing anything but finding and assisting her. He looked at me sharply and when he determined he could do more good by going with me than fighting me he nodded once in agreement.

Earlier in the day Mr. Palmer had pointed out to us the direction of Willoughby's home and that is the direction I turned my horse. The rain continued falling at a steady pace and already the ground was becoming muddy and the air colder. Marianne had no protection from the elements as it was beautiful when we were outside earlier. I began to fear for her, knowing she already had a slight cold. Exposure to this weather could do nothing but harm her further.

The horse Mr. Palmer chose for me was sensible and true and I tried not to enjoy myself too much as I scanned the horizon for anything that could be my sister. It has been ten months since I last rode Gypsy and I have missed her dearly. That little mare was a joy to ride.

We found Marianne lying in a sodden puddle, wet to the bone and shivering incessantly. She was not coherent. I pulled off my cloak and wrapped it around her, then helped Colonel Brandon pick her up, tucking the cloak firmly. He immediately began walking back to the house while I walked beside him, leading both of the horses. My quick glances at Mari's dripping face lying against the colonel's shoulder did little to comfort my fears.

As we walked I found myself wishing I'd had the foresight to bring an extra cloak with me for the rain had quickly soaked my dress and hair and ran rivers into my eyes. The colonel glanced at me briefly with concern and commented how my being wet and catching cold could in no way help my sister to improve. I laughed and told him I was sturdier than Marianne and had suffered far fewer disappointments than she in the past many weeks. I would be fine.

When we reached the main doors to the manor Mr. Palmer was waiting for us and immediately took Marianne from Colonel Brandon and rushed her, along with a trembling Elinor and fussing Mrs. Jennings, straight up to her room. I handed the horses off to a groom and had paused on the step to attempt to squeeze the dripping rain out of my skirts when I suddenly found myself enveloped in the colonel's greatcoat. I looked up at him as he drew it around my shoulders and held it closed in the front. His eyes were bright with something I've never seen before and he cleared his throat nervously before admonishing me to go immediately and put on dry clothes. Clutching the coat closed in my cold fingers I went to follow his instructions.

Once I was presentable and reasonably dry I made my way to Marianne's room where El and Mrs. Jennings had just finished getting her wet things removed and a warm nightgown put on her. Her extremities were like ice but her forehead was burning with fever and she tossed and struggled in the bedclothes. We couldn't decide if she needed to be warmed up or cooled off. I settled for rubbing her hands and feet while Ellie applied cold cloths to her forehead. It seemed we managed to strike a balance because she became calmer and seemed so slip into a more sedate state of rest.

I explained that we'd found her on the hill overlooking the direction of Combe Magna and Elinor nodded, as though she expected to hear such news, while Mrs. Jennings fussed and chirped her dismay at the damage Willoughby continued to do, even when he wasn't present. Deciding Mari was as comfortable as she could be for the moment, we left a maid to sit with her and went to inform the rest of the household of her state.

And now it seems we will wait and hope she will be better. Ellie tried to scold me for rushing off in the rain to look for her but I just reminded her I was only behaving the way Father taught me. She shook her head but pulled me close in a hug and told me she was glad I was constant and reliable. We are going to take turns sitting with Marianne tonight to make sure her fever does not return unnoticed.

**7 April**

It was a long night with very little sleep. I dozed while Ellie watched and then El would doze while I watched. Mari's fever never became too high but her sleep was not restful and her moments of clarity were few. I fear for her. She has not eaten well in many weeks and has not slept, either. In her despair she has allowed herself to waste away and while something as minor as a wetting and a head cold in a healthy body would be no danger, I fear that she, in her weakened state, could suffer badly for the neglect she was allowed. Oh, how I wish I'd forced her to eat more and to take better care of herself of late. If anything should happen…

The colonel hovers outside her door.

**8 April**

It is more of the same. I slept a while today in my own bed at the insistence of Elinor and Mrs. Jennings but I refused to go unless Ellie lay down with me. That way we could both be certain the other was indeed sleeping as she ought.

I sat up for most of the night, checking Marianne's forehead compulsively. There is a slight fever which does not abate.

Elinor agrees we must call an apothecary.

**9 April**

Medicine has been procured but there seems to be little change in Marianne. The doctor is concerned about an infection in her lungs. At the word infection the Palmer household cleared out immediately, taking the new baby with them. I feel badly that the Dashwoods have singlehandedly driven a family from their home but when I mentioned this to Colonel Brandon he snorted and told me not to worry, that it was a small inconvenience for the Palmers in the overall picture. I am so glad the colonel is staying. Just knowing he is nearby gives me strength to keep going back into Mari's room.

She truly frightened me this afternoon. I had convinced Elinor to go lie down and I could see she was glad to. The doctor was meant to return before supper time and I anticipated a quiet afternoon reading aloud and praying silently.

Marianne started tossing shortly after El left and I quickly applied a cool cloth to her forehead. Her eyes shot open at the contact from the cold and she grabbed my hand in a surprisingly strong grip for someone as sick as she is. I shouted in astonishment, surprised to be accosted by my own sister. Just as suddenly as she woke up she lost consciousness again and it shook me badly to see her lying there so still. I crawled onto her bed and put my head on her shoulder like I used to do when we were young and still liked one another. This was how we told each other all our secrets and it seemed only natural to find myself in this position, bargaining for her to get well.

I don't think I intended to speak out loud and I certainly didn't have a plan for what I was saying but without paying much attention I found myself begging Mari to fight, to choose to come back to us. I reminded her of how much she was loved, by Mama and Margaret, by Elinor and me. I told her of all the friends who were waiting to see her face again, who wanted to hear her play the pianoforte or debate the supremacy of one of Shakespeare's sonnets. I informed her that the colonel was very concerned for her well-being and how she couldn't let him down, not again.

At my mention of the colonel I began to cry, and I'm sure my tears wetting Mari's nightgown couldn't have been good for her but it seemed there was no stopping them. I told her of how I loved him but I knew he loved her and I promised that if she would only get well and let him heal her heart I would give up my hopes for him and just be happy that they were happy. I sobbed and begged and then froze at the touch of her hand on my head, fingers twined in my hair just like she used to when we were telling secrets. Her eyes were open and looking at me with more coherence than I'd seen in several days. She whispered, "I love you Em" and then her eyes closed again and she breathed more easily than she has all day. It would seem I fell asleep shortly after, as that was where I was when Ellie woke me up several hours later, still snuggled next to Marianne.


	7. Chapter 7

**10 April**

Colonel Brandon left to get Mama last night, at Elinor's request, for Marianne had been worse again overnight and asking for Mama in her delirium. It looked like he was pleased to finally have something to do beyond pacing up and down the hall as he has been these past four days. I am glad he cares for Marianne so. I know we can trust him to be true to her and never fear he might treat her as Willoughby did.

I meant what I told her, you know. If the colonel loves her and she can accept him and decides to love him in return I will choose to be happy for them. I want to see my sister loved and happy and that matters most to me over all the longings of my own poor heart.

**11 April**

Ellie and I have been waiting anxiously for Mama's arrival, knowing it cannot be for many more hours but hoping to be surprised at the speed of her and the colonel's return. We managed to eat, finally, with the relief that comes from knowing our beloved Marianne's fever has fallen from her and that she is finally in a natural sleep. The doctor also confirmed the danger was past and she would recover. We could not thank him enough for the blessed news.

I was coming from one more check on Marianne when I heard voices in the hall and I hurried forward, thinking that perhaps Mama did arrive earlier than truly possible. But before I came through the sitting room door I recognized the voice of the man speaking with Elinor. It was Willoughby. Somehow he had heard of Marianne's illness and had driven from London all day to come and learn her condition. I had no desire to see him but was torn at leaving Ellie to deal with him herself. I could not imagine why she even gave him the opportunity to speak; I would have had him removed had I been the one to receive him.

So I stayed outside the door, eavesdropping with intent for the first time, ready to assist my sister if she had need of me but endeavoring to avoid dealing with Willoughby if given the chance. Plus I was aware that Mama and the colonel could actually arrive soon and the last thing I wanted was for the colonel to feel the need to duel Willoughby again. If I was in the hall when they arrived I could possibly prevent the two parties from meeting each other at all. If only Elinor would not let Willoughby stay long.

He had a story to tell, to be sure, one of thoughtlessness and unintended cruelty. He claimed to have been in love with Marianne but to not have realized it. When his aunt withdrew his inheritance at the revelation of his seduction of young Eliza, he chose the woman with money over the woman with love. And oh how he regrets it now. I can hear the contempt in his voice when he speaks of his wife and how she forced him to write that cruel letter to Marianne. I began to feel pity for him until the faces of my friend Eliza and her beautiful little baby came to my mind and the knowledge that she will forever be scorned and humiliated because of his selfishness hardened my heart against him again.

At the end of his impassioned speech he had the audacity to suggest the possibility of having a chance again with Marianne should he ever find himself unencumbered by a wife. I could hear Ellie silence that suggestion with nary a word. I hope he was ashamed of himself for thinking we'd ever let him near Mari again, wife or no.

His final words as he took his leave were of how he dreads her wedding day, when she will be lost to him forever. He swept into the hall and did not notice me until I followed him to the front door. My parting words to him as I closed the door in his wake were that she would never be more lost to him than she was at this moment. Then I barred the door behind him, making sure it landed heavily so he would hear it from outside and know there would be no one to welcome him back into this home again.

Less than thirty minutes after his departure, Mama and Colonel Brandon arrived. And how glad we were to tell them she was recovering.

**15 April**

Marianne is so much better; she sat up in the dressing room today and allowed me to fix her hair so she might receive the colonel in order to thank him for bringing her mother to her when she needed her so desperately. I watched as she held her hand out to him prettily, just as she did to Willoughby at that last disastrous encounter. I could no longer stand to witness her accepting the gift of his heart so I slipped from the room. Likely no one will notice my absence anyway, so taken up as they are with the return of the angel.

No, that is uncharitable of me! I love my sister and I want to see her happy. If Colonel Brandon can make her happy then I will be happy as well. There really is a complete difference between being able to write certain words and to act upon them. How does one go on living with a broken heart and no hope? This must be how Marianne and Elinor feel all the time. It is rather debilitating.

I am going to see if I can get that little mare again and go for a ride. I am desperate to find myself moving too quickly to be able to think any longer.

**16 April**

Colonel Brandon followed me on my ride yesterday – of this I am certain. And I do not know what to make of it.

I had the mare flat out, running as hard as she could. I was stretched against her neck and glorying in the feel of the wind in my face and the warm body of horse under my legs. I love riding bareback. It makes me feel like the horse and I are one; I am not in control, I am just part of the animal. That is why I let my hair out, too. It is just me and the mare, as free as the wind.

We ran until I could feel the little mare was winded so I pulled her up to catch her breath and we wandered for a while until she seemed ready to go again. I leaned against her neck and whispered words of encouragement in her ear before nudging her with my feet and once again we were at a run.

I could not believe my ears when I heard the sound of hooves behind me, approaching fast. I cast a glance over my shoulder and was astounded to recognize the colonel. I had thought he would be taking advantage of the opportunity to spend time with a willing Marianne. Unless something was wrong…

I quickly wheeled the mare around and raced back to him, shouting my inquiry as soon as we were close enough to be heard. I nearly slid off the horse when he assured me that nothing was wrong, he just happened to be out for a ride, like myself. It took me several moments to recover from my fright and while I was getting control of my emotions I felt his eyes on my face, studying me.

"You've let your hair down," he commented. I had forgotten and frantically tried to contain it, but I had left all my pins in the house so my hastily tied knot only uncoiled and my hair spilled around my shoulders again. I tried unsuccessfully to smooth it but he held up a hand and told me not to, that he liked it down. Then he turned his horse and urged it into a gallop while throwing the word "Race?" over his shoulder at me.

I was astonished and bewildered but not incapable of action so I nudged the little mare after him, encouraging her to show that big stallion what she was made of. We rode for several hours, mostly in companionable silence. I pondered frequently why he had chosen to ride with me; he looked often at my hair blowing in the wind.

I keep reminding myself that I dare not hope for anything.

**24 April**

Marianne is well enough to travel home now and Colonel Brandon has allowed us the use of his carriage, though he himself rides for Delaford and will not be able to see us back to Barton. He has behaved strangely these past few days. He is still as pleasant as usual, spending his time talking with Mama and Elinor and looking at Marianne but his behavior to me has been attentive for the first time ever. He inquires into my writing and if I am willing asks to read it. He suggests books he thinks I will enjoy and then supplies them to me. He has invited me to go out riding twice more since the first day we rode together. And I just keep reminding myself that I daren't hope for anything.

Ellie's eyes are on me and I know she has questions but at the moment I have nothing to tell her. Parting tomorrow will certainly be bittersweet for though plagued by confusion for his mercurial attention toward me, I know without a doubt that I shall greatly miss the colonel.

**27 April**

Home! That this little cottage should be home still surprises me but there is no place I would rather be. Being surrounded by my family only improves upon it.

**11 May**

Marianne has convalesced very well and today we attempted her first walk. She was slow and leaned heavily upon El and me but I count it good progress that she is out of the cottage at all. And then the conversation turned to Willoughby. Both El and I were astonished when Mari could only express regret for her lack of discretion and for allowing herself to behave with such disregard for the people who care for her. It was an emotional day and Elinor was finally given the chance to tell her of Willoughby's last visit when she was so ill. I can see now how much Marianne has grown up these last months. I wonder what will happen to all of us next.

**15 May**

Thomas came back from town today with word that Edward and Lucy are married, having seen and spoken to Lucy in Exeter. My poor Ellie turned horribly pale at the news but managed to keep her head (which is more than Marianne was able to do as she went into hysterics and had to take to her bed for the rest of the afternoon). Elinor commented to me later in the day about how curiously different it is between anticipating an unpleasant event and then knowing of its finality. I suppose she means that as long as she was only anticipating it there was always a chance it might not happen. Now she is left with no hope.

I wonder, does Edward realize how badly he has injured my sister?

**23 May**

The most unbelievable, astounding thing occurred today in our little cottage in Barton! Elinor is engaged to Edward!

I know; how can this be possible? Only in the most amazing of ways. When we received word last week that Lucy had married Mr. Ferrars, we all assumed that meant she had married Edward but the truth of the matter is that greedy, faithless woman married Robert Ferrars, Edward's brother!

I laugh in delight at the thought of Mrs. Ferrars revoking Edward's fortune at his audacity to marry Lucy Steele, only to have Lucy obtain it anyway by marrying the brother she gave said fortune to! Oh, how the mighty have fallen. If only Edward had not been hurt by it all.

But he is happy now, so much happier than we have ever seen before; it is like he is a different man. His worries and commitments have been weighing him down for so many years. It is no wonder he is alight with joy now. He loves Elinor and she has agreed to marry him. I do not know that I have ever seen her so happy.

**29 May**

Colonel Brandon is arrived and my heart does not know how to behave. I seem to waver between jubilation when I feel his eyes upon me and devastating moroseness when I witness him watching Marianne. Indeed, I begin to wonder if he knows which of us he prefers.

Marianne is much more amiable to him, that much is clear. She is not yet strong enough to play her pianoforte so we have been taking turns reading aloud as a satisfying diversion for our whole company. The colonel's rich voice is delightful to listen to and I see that Marianne observes him as he reads, much as he observes her whilst playing her music. If she truly develops an attachment to him I WILL give up my hope. I MUST for the sake of my sister.


	8. Chapter 8

**31 May**

Such thoughts as I have previously written continue to make me poor company so I slipped out to the garden after breakfast today, hoping to soothe my aching heart by putting some distance between it and the object of its affections. Marianne is looking so much better this morning. The colonel commented in delight at the healthy glow on her cheeks.

I had decided the meager vegetable garden Betsy is attempting to grow would benefit from my meddling and I began to pull weeds with a fervor that I rarely have for garden work. So intent was I on my task that I did not realize I had been followed until I was startled out of my intensity by a somber voice requesting permission to join me. The thought of the austere Colonel Brandon being found weeding my vegetable garden is an entertaining thought and I nodded my approval to him while failing to hide my grin. He grinned back at me, as though knowing my thoughts, pulled on Thomas's gloves and began to work.

We toiled in silence for some time as is the nature of our friendship. I have often delighted in the knowledge that he also recognizes the value of silence. The entire row of peas was sorted out before he offered any dialog and then what he began with threw my heart into turmoil once again. He casually mentioned, as though speaking of nothing of consequence, how he had spent the three weeks since we had last seen him contemplating the disproportion between thirty-six and seventeen.

I could scarcely breathe, knowing he could be speaking OF Marianne but being aware he was speaking of it to ME. I pushed my sweaty curls back from my face (smearing dirt across my forehead in the process, which I did not realize until confronted by a mirror much later in the day) and attempted to calm my racing heart while forcing my voice to come out of my mouth as naturally as possible.

I asked him, while keeping my eyes focused on my task, if it would relieve him any to know that both Marianne and I had our eighteenth birthdays last week. His low, delighted chuckle forced me to glance over at him.

He stood, removed his gloves, then reached for my hands and pulled me to my feet as well. I looked up at him, trying to interpret the unfamiliar look in his eyes. And then he said to me (and I can still hear it ringing in my ears so I am easily able to write it down here, exactly as he spoke it), "Miss Emmeline, I wonder if you would be willing to call me Christopher. For you, my dear girl (and here he took one step closer to me so we were nearly touching) are the one whose age is of interest to me. You are the one whom I dare hope may concede to become my wife."

For the first time in my life, I am afraid I fainted. It is not at all a pleasant sensation.

When I revived I was on the lounge in the sitting room. My dear Christopher (!) was leaning over me, fear written on his face. I could hear Mama fluttering in the other room, calling for damp cloths and Marianne demanding, from her chair by the window, to know what was wrong with her sister.

I raised my arm, thrilled with the knowledge that I might dare to touch him, wove my fingers through his hair to draw him closer to me and whispered, "Yes." His face lighted up with so much happiness it sent a jolt of answering thrill through my heart.

Much, much later we were finally granted some privacy, once Mama was convinced I truly was okay and we had explained the reason for my sudden and unexpected infirmity. Mama was, of course, absolutely delighted, Elinor expressed genuine gladness, Margaret was thrilled, and Marianne seemed pleased. She is the one I was watching most closely, of course, because I had truly begun to think she was changing her opinion about the colonel and would favor a romantic attachment to him. But her pleasure seemed genuine and I breathed a sigh of relief that I was not going to crush my sister by celebrating my own joy.

I could not wait to get Christopher alone; there was so much I wanted to ask him, now that we are permitted the intimacy to discuss personal things. But before I could get a single word out of my mouth he moved closer to me, captured my face between both his hands, and pressed his lips against mine. I found myself caught up in a moment of pure ecstasy.

He slowly withdrew; his eyes on my face as if uncertain of my reaction. I think my delighted smile must have reassured him I was in no way offended but he felt compelled to apologize anyway, for failing to ask my permission or even warn me of his intentions. I told him that as he is my intended I grant him permission to kiss me whenever he chooses. I rather liked it and hope we get to do it often.

And then we talked. We talked of our wedding and my inevitable move to Delaford; we spoke of Eliza and the baby and of my desire to have her live at Delaford as well, so we could be the family she so desperately needs. Christopher seems moved that I would want our home to include his ward but I do not know why it surprises him so. Can he not see that because I love him, I also love her and as our doing right by her can only make him happy, I will be happy as well? Finally we got around to talking about Marianne.

I wanted to know why he chose me, when he was getting so close to winning the attentions of my sister. And he told me something that makes my heart sing. He told me that while he loved Eliza, he has realized Marianne can never be his lost love. And so he has chosen to let go of his past and move into his future with a woman whom he has seen love more generously than he has ever experienced and believes he can no longer live without. Me! He means me! I wept at the depth of emotion in his words and he kissed the tears from my cheeks.

Oh, how I wish we were married already! I want nothing more from life than to be his wife.

**16 June**

Christopher and Edward have been at Deleford these past three days determining what more work must be done to the parsonage before it is sufficiently habitable for Edward and Elinor. Mama and we girls have been busy with wedding preparations. I had no idea it would be so much work to plan a wedding; it is not something I have paid attention to before. The return of Mrs. Jennings and the Middletons to Barton Park has assisted somewhat as Mrs. Jennings is most overjoyed to help plan anyone's wedding. I have a feeling it will be simplest to step back and let her and Mama do what they want and simply arrive in good time on the day of!

I have been three days without Christopher and miss him so strongly I ache. Since our engagement he has practically lived at Barton Cottage – would, indeed, if Edward had not claimed the guest room first! He slept in his old rooms at the Park and walked down each day before breakfast, and then stayed until late each evening before walking back. The constant evidence of his regard, nay his love for me is so beautiful. His face has become younger, in my eyes at least, and it is more peaceful than I knew he could appear.

We have taken many walks, often speaking of nothing, simply enjoying the other's presence. He also had a horse sent for me from Delaford and we have spent hours riding through the country. The horse he chose for me, Belle, is to be mine forevermore. She is my first gift from Christopher. I teased him when he brought her to me, that the gifts of music he used to bring for Marianne lightened his purse far less than what he considers an appropriate gift for me. He said it simply showed the quality of his regard for me that my gifts cost more. And then he proceeded to kiss me.

His kisses do something to my body which I've not experienced before and which makes me hunger for him even more in his absence. Oh, how I love him!

**27 June**

I worry for Marianne. She is surrounded by wedding plans and yet none of them are her own. She appears content and daily rejoices with Elinor and me for our joy but I do not see how she can keep from feeling left behind, with our plans to be gone from this home before the autumn arrives. To hope that another handsome stranger should sweep her off her feet seems to only ask for trouble. I doubt any of us would welcome or trust another stranger at this point, anyway. I sincerely desire for my sister to only be as happy as I am.

Christopher and Edward are to return today and it cannot be soon enough. I have never been one to mope about in loneliness and yet this past sevenday has tried my limits for missing him. Though Elinor continues to have better self control than I, it seems safe to suppose she misses Edward as much as I miss Christopher.

I hear horses on the path! My Christopher is returned!

**31 July**

Elinor and Edward were married today. It was beautiful, aside from the scowling presence of Fanny, though John seemed pleased in a subdued manner. His pleasure at my match, however, is unconcealed, and I am certain Fanny is offended that one of us Dashwood girls has managed to marry into money, as if such things matter to me when I have Christopher's love to marvel over.

My happiness is buoyed by Elinor and Edward's; I cannot wait until is my turn. One month is what I must suffer and indeed it feels like an eternity. When I whispered this to Christopher during the recession from the church he pressed my fingers more tightly on his arm. Though he spoke no words, the hunger in his eyes made me feel faint with desire for him, a frequent experience for me of late.

I am anxious for my wedding but even more anxious about my wedding night. I cannot wait until Elinor and Edward are back from their wedding tour as I have many questions she should hopefully be able to answer for me by then.

**12 August**

Mama, Marianne, Margaret and I have moved to Delaford for the interval until my wedding and I spent yesterday with Christopher exploring my new home. Indeed, he seemed to take great delight in showing me every nook and cranny and in telling me I might change it however I see fit, as I am to be its mistress from now on. It is more than I could have imagined. Mrs. Jennings certainly was not exaggerating in her praise of the property. The idea of having so many pleasures at my fingertips is most overwhelming but I believe I will manage to get used to it in time. I cannot even begin to describe the wonder that is the library…

Christopher was surprised at the arrival of a guest two days prior, a nephew he had not heard from in many years and was unaware was in the country. Captain James Leigh is a tall muscular man with brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. He seems well-mannered and intelligent and I cannot deny he makes a good addition to our company. He enjoys reading aloud and has a voice well-suited for the task.

This morning I noticed Marianne color when he greeted her at breakfast and cannot deny his eyes seemed to brighten when he spotted her approach. In my delight I glanced at Christopher to see if I was the only one who noticed; he caught my eye and inclined his head at my unspoken question, his own eyes glinting in mirth at the idea. How beautiful it is that he and I need no words to speak with one another.

**19 August**

I just came away from the most confusing conversation with Mama. She was trying to give me instructions for my wedding night, of this I am certain. I believe she intended her words to encourage and comfort me but in truth I am more fearful now than I had been before. I await Elinor's return and hope she can give me less frightening advice than Mama provided.

I am confused why celebrating our pleasure at being married should be something I need to fear.

**22 August**

Elinor and Edward are come! Their happiness radiates from them and I do believe that if Lucy Ferrars nee Steele were here I would kiss her for her unintended hand in bringing them such joy, although I doubt she would be pleased to know it was her own cruelty which has enabled them to be so happy!

I was finally able to get Ellie to myself this afternoon under the pretense of showing her my wedding clothes and rather awkwardly broached the subject with which Mama so frightened me a few days ago. When El realized what I wanted to discuss she blushed deeply but gave me a knowing look and asked if Mama had spoken to me yet.

I nodded and my face colored as well, which made Ellie laugh. I was relieved she had levity regarding the topic as it could not be too terrible if she could laugh about it.

Elinor was quick to reassure me that although Mama's advice to relax and not struggle against my husband could certainly be taken into consideration, she herself had found that Edward's delight in her had been sufficient distraction from whatever there might be to fear from such an experience. She told me that acting on my passionate feelings could only help me when the time came and that she believed the more I participated, the more I would enjoy it.

I could see it was hard for her to speak of such private things and tried to tell her how much I appreciated her openness. She pulled me close into a long hug and before she released me she whispered this in my ear, "It is wondrous, dear Em, to be so admired and cherished, and held so closely. I had no idea such pleasure existed." When she pulled away her cheeks were rosy but there was a new glint in her eyes, that of a satisfied wife.

I tremble in anticipation to experience that of which she speaks.

**30 August**

Tomorrow I become the wife of Christopher Brandon! I do not have any words to describe my jubilation.


	9. Chapter 9

**31 August**

I am now Mrs. Emmeline Brandon.

The ceremony is complete; the guests are away. I am in my dressing room, waiting for Christopher to complete one last responsibility as master of the house. Tonight he gave me the enclosed letter and asked me to read it before we come together as husband and wife for the first time. In this letter he has opened up to me in a way I never expected, told me things I never conceived to know. If I thought my heart was full of love for him before, it is overflowing now. I ache for him; the rest of our lives cannot begin soon enough.

"To my dear wife, my Emme-mine:

Words do not always come easily to me dear-heart, as I believe you are aware. However, because I do not speak does not mean I do not think, or feel. I often write when I need to express myself but am unable to verbally share. Enclosed in this letter is a collection of things I've written to or about you during times it would have been inappropriate to share them in person. I hope this gives you a greater insight into who your husband is and of his regard for you, so that when we meet later tonight you will know without a doubt that you completely possess me, heart, soul, mind, and body.

15 July – The Dashwood twin, Emmeline, has surprised me with her intellect. She has been taught well, by her father, I suppose, regarding an astonishing variety of subjects. Not only is she well-read, but clearly has the mind to understand what she reads and discern whether or not she agrees with it. Debate with her is enjoyable. It has been many years since I've had opportunity to speak plainly on so many subjects and with a woman in particular.

5 August – It was most surprising to learn that Miss Emmeline is an author. That is to say, she writes stories, and read one of them to our company at the Park evening last. I was offended for her at the time, as that scoundrel Willoughby initiated her recitation merely to alleviate his own boredom. It was clear she did not want to reveal her writing to the company present and I do not fault her. She is a private person and to have the violation of her privacy forced upon her was bad form indeed. And yet she rallied beautifully. I am impressed with her internal strength, as well as with her ability to write an entertaining anecdote. I wonder if anyone has considered assisting in getting her work published.

10 January – I received word the elder Dashwood girls had arrived in town yesterday with Mrs. Jennings and called as soon as it was proper. Miss Marianne does not look well and though her sisters insisted it was weariness from the journey I am more assured than ever it has something to do with Willoughby. The rumors have already begun flying regarding an attachment between the two of them. It was pleasurable to be in the company of Miss Dashwood and Miss Emmeline again, although there was an extremely uncomfortable moment created by Mrs. Jennings and her uncontrolled musings. She implied an attachment for me from Miss Emmeline, at which said girl looked positively mortified. I was offended at Mrs. Jennings thoughtless words spoken so bluntly and cruelly, particularly when she indicated that one twin would be an acceptable substitute for the other. In truth, I have very little hope for a chance with Miss Marianne in light of Willoughby's presence but I have little thought of her sister as an option instead. Twins are most certainly not interchangeable. I wonder at her statement of Miss Emmeline's regard for me. Could there be truth to it? I will need to tread carefully, as I do not want to hurt the girl.

13 January – I find myself observing Miss Emmeline more often these days and my attention to her confuses me greatly. I know Mrs. Jennings is unaware of the disservice she performed when comparing one twin to another and yet I find myself doing the same as I sit in the room with the both of them, one engrossed in her music and the other in her writing. Physically they are as different as night and day. My heart still clenches when I see Miss Marianne looking so like Eliza but I cannot deny the dark beauty of Miss Emmeline. I wonder that I have not seen it before now.

15 January – The engagement between Miss Marianne and Willoughby is common knowledge on the streets today but when I attempted to obtain confirmation from her sisters of the event they could not give it. Not knowing if she has tied herself to so despicable a person is heart-rending. It is as though I am losing Eliza all over again, and to the man who has most wronged her. And yet I dare not say anything for if they are engaged I cannot be the one to destroy her happiness. As I was leaving with my heart still as heavy as when I arrived I observed Miss Emmeline in the window above, watching me with a look of hopelessness upon her face. I cannot help but wonder if she really does feel something besides friendship for me.

20 January – So the rogue has broken Miss Marianne's heart after all. I felt I must inform her sisters of Willoughby's nature, in hopes that Marianne could take some comfort in it. It was not an easy thing to tell them, those two sweet women who have become my friends. Miss Emmeline surprised me the most when she inquired after Eliza and requested to meet her. I do not think it appropriate for a gentleman's daughter to be seen associating with a fallen woman as my young ward has become but I found myself unable to deny her request when she insisted she would be the sister Eliza needs right now. She certainly is persistent when she sets her mind at something.

22 January – Today was the day I arranged a meeting between Miss Emmeline and Eliza. I find myself astonished at the rapport between the two of them after a scant few hours introduction. Miss Emmeline truly is a lady with her ability to connect with my ward and offer her friendship instead of the shunning which she can expect from the rest of society. I admire her generosity of spirit and compassion. Though I am bewildered why my heart should ache at the sweet sight of her holding Eliza's baby; I cannot wipe the picture of it from my memory.

17 March – I was visiting with the Dashwoods today primarily to inquire of Miss Dashwood what she thought of my offering the living at Delaford to her friend Edward Ferrars, who has been horribly maligned by his family. Though deep in conversation I was still aware of Miss Marianne playing at the pianoforte and then astonished to hear singing, which was not Miss Marianne. I do not believe I have ever heard Miss Emmeline sing before. She is not a performer as Miss Marianne is but her voice is delightful and pleasant. I was more distracted by that knowledge than I should have been.

6 April - Today was the first time I truly saw you as a woman, with your clothes soaked, each and every item you were wearing nearly transparent, revealing the piece beneath it, and the piece beneath that, all the way down to your skin. It took all my willpower in that moment to cover you with my coat, blocking the vision of you not only from my eyes but from the eyes of every other man in the house. Never before have I reacted so carnally to the vision of a beautiful woman. The intensity of it concerns me.

9 April - I heard you shout from your sister's room and came running, certain you needed assistance and knowing Elinor had just gone to take a much needed nap. I opened the door and cautiously looked in, prepared to inquire if I could assist. But as I looked on you climbed onto the bed beside your sick sister and lay down next to her, words flowing from your lips as you begged her to choose to get well. Your words brought tears to my eyes as I listened to you remind her of all the people who love her and wanted her back with them. When you spoke my name I had to lean on the door frame to support my suddenly weak knees. I listened in disbelief as you told her how you loved me but would give up that hope if she would let my love for her make her well again. I lingered until it was obvious you had fallen asleep then I withdrew and resumed my post by the door. I have much to consider in light of this unexpected confession.

15 April - I noticed when you left the room, your shoulders slumped in resignation and despair and I was torn; should I bask in the unexpected attentions of the angel so like my lost Eliza or follow in the wake of the dark gypsy who has begun to haunt my thoughts? In the end it was decided for me as after a few minutes of conversation your sister began to tire quickly so I excused myself to allow her to rest. Then I was free to hunt for you in all the places I have learned you might be during these past months of our acquaintance. A quick glance at the writing desk in the parlor and the chair by the window in the library convinced me you had left the house. I was taking a brief turn through the garden when I heard the thunder of hooves and turned in time to see you fly from the stables on the mare you rode when we searched for Marianne. You'd let your hair down and for the first time I saw how long it is as it streamed behind you in a glorious curly chestnut curtain. With resolved steps I headed for the stables as well, determined to catch up with you.

Why do you ride bareback? I have no objection, aside from the presence of those rules of proper conduct for young women of a certain age. Indeed, watching you ride without a saddle gives me an astonishing amount of joy. It is as if you become one with your horse and suddenly I think perhaps I understand after all. That's why your hair is down as well, is it not? You and the horse are as free as a bird when you ride like that. It is beautiful. You are beautiful.

22 April - I can tell I have bewildered you. I have rather bewildered myself as well. What I have hoped for these past ten months is finally within my grasp and I find I am not sure I really want it after all. At the very least I am relieved I never spoke to anyone of my feelings for your sister. If she believed I cared for her only to change my mind at this point I would be no better than that scoundrel Willoughby. And yet I have mourned for Eliza so long, would I be a fool to give her up now, even if she is reincarnated in the form of Marianne? Or has the dream become an obsession and an obsession can never be reality? Looking at you in this moment, your skin glowing from exercise, your hair tangled by the wind, I cannot imagine wanting any other woman but you for as long as I live. I feel as confused and changeable as a wet behind the ears whelp of a boy.

16 May – I miss you. This is the simple truth. I miss your smile, your thoughtful conversation, the way your hair flies out behind you when you ride. I miss being with you. It is interesting to note I do not miss Marianne nor Elinor the way I miss you. This is new to me and I wonder how long I can wait before it is appropriate to show up at your door. I also wonder if you miss me as well. Am I a foolish old man, longing for a girl who cannot possibly want him in return? Or is your regard for me as constant as it has appeared these last months? I do not know how long I can wait to see you again.

29 May – The delight upon your face when you saw me approaching the cottage brought my heart back to life and hope swelled in me. I nearly caught you in a kiss before I controlled myself and forced myself to behave like the gentleman you believe me to be. What a satisfaction it is to be in your home surrounded by so much joy. I nearly spoke of my intentions to you today but want to wait, to spend time with your family, to convince myself I have made the right choice before I say anything. To just be near you is a balm to my soul.

31 May – You said yes! My joy knows no bounds and I fear I shall be strutting around much like Mr. Ferrars, with a foolish smile of giddiness upon my face at the delightful turn my life has taken. I did not know I could find happiness like this again.

12 August – Today you move to Delaford and shall never leave it again, should I have anything to say of it. Welcome home, my love.

31 August – You are now Mrs. Emmeline Brandon. My wife. When you are ready, please join me in the bedroom where we will begin our life together. I await you… Christopher."


	10. Chapter 10

And so I folded up my letter – the first written word I have ever received from my husband – and tucked it away in my journal. Still clad in my wedding clothes (for he had requested that I leave them on so he might be the one to take them off me), I slipped silently through the door joining my dressing room to that of the bedroom I was to share with my new husband. And there I stopped, taking in the sight before me.

Christopher stood in front of the fireplace, watching the low flames dancing brightly. It was hardly cool enough for a fire but it helped to make the room feel warm and safe. He had removed his uniform jacket and boots and stood leaning against the mantle with his left forearm, his right hand in his pocket. He looked completely relaxed and at peace. He was doing exactly as he said he would – waiting for me.

I walked as quietly as possible until I stood at his back. I then slid my arms around his waist and leaned against him, breathing in his scent. We had been granted far too little time for touching and I hoped tonight would change that.

He relaxed just a little more at my touch and I used the opportunity to not only hug him firmly, but to begin exploring him, learning his body. He was warm, probably from standing in front of the fire. His shirt was soft under my fingertips but concealed a firm abdomen and chest. I felt a sudden urge to pull his shirt from his breeches, to slide my hands over his warm skin and I blushed at my unexpected aggressiveness. I did not even know if it was appropriate for me to act like this. When my hands stopped moving my husband turned to look at me and seemed to realize my trouble.

He leaned down and kissed me gently before putting his hands in my hair and beginning to feel around and pull out hair pins. "Please," he said, "do anything you want my love. My body belongs to you. Explore it, touch it, taste it." When my blush grew deeper at the images his suggestions created in my head he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "I promise I will do the same for you."

His voice, so deep and smooth, created a burn in me; that same burn I had experienced in the past when he would kiss me, the one I do not understand. It was like I was on fire in places that were not meant to burn. It confused and excited me.

Christopher continued pulling pins from my hair, running his fingers through it, even burying his face in the heavy mass and breathing deeply, as though he were going to drink me in. His inattention to my hands gave me the boldness to do as he asked and I slipped my fingers under his shirt, lightly skimming them across his belly. I held my breath when I felt the muscles under my fingers tighten and then release. Emboldened, I slid my hands higher. My husband moaned under my fingertips.

I was startled when he stepped back from me and abruptly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed aside before returning to stand in front of me. He took my hands and pressed both of them against his chest and watched my face as I looked at him.

I do not think I have ever seen a man without his shirt on before. My husband is beautiful. I gently moved my hands up to his shoulders, feeling his nipples tighten under my palms as they passed over. My fingers stroked up his neck and across his chin, stopping to smooth his lips before beginning a downward journey again.

My eyes followed my hands, marveling at the sight in front of me. Christopher had a small amount of hair in the center of his chest which my fingers tangled in briefly before they moved lower, where they found another trail of hair which became thicker the lower it went. When my hands reached his waistband my eyes went back to his face.

His eyes were closed, his hands hanging at his side, clenched into fists, and his teeth were gritted tightly together. He almost looked as if he were in pain and I stilled, waiting to see if all were still well between us. Truth be told, I did not want to stop. I wanted to uncover every inch of his skin because I wanted to see my husband and to know him completely.

So I waited and he shortly opened his eyes and gazed at me with so much love I could barely breathe. "Why did you stop?" he asked, capturing my hands in his and bringing them up to kiss my palms. Each kiss sent a jolt through my body where it joined the fire, which seemed to be getting closer to the place where my legs meet.

"Because it looked like you were in pain. Was I hurting you?" I inquired, pressing one hand against his cheek and sucking in a breath when he turned his head to nuzzle his lips against it. What an amazing thing it was, I marveled, to be in love.

He chuckled low in a way that sent more heat to my inner fire. "No, my love, not pain. I am just trying to control myself around you. The closer we get, the stronger my urge to simply take what you are offering, and I am determined you will enjoy this evening as much as you can." He reached for the collar of my dress and began stroking my throat down to where my chest was rising and falling with every breath I took. "So don't fear – what you are doing is very pleasurable to me and I am delighted you are curious enough to explore me. It gives me great joy to suffer like this."

His head bent and he kissed my throat where his fingers had just been, then the upper slope of my chest, then each of the softly mounded curves of my breasts. Instinctively my hands came to the back of his head and pressed him where he was. I gasped when I felt his tongue brush along each curve and slip under the edge of my dress. I couldn't hold back a groan and I felt him smile against my skin in response.

When he raised his head his hands went to the back of my dress and began fumbling with the laces holding it closed. "But perhaps before you continue your exploration," he murmured, "I might be given permission to help you out of your dress?" I could only nod my head, electrified and yet nervous at the thought of removing my clothing before any man. But this was my husband, I reminded myself, and it is his right to see you, just as you have seen him.

I looked again at the smooth, naked skin in front of me before turning so he could easily see the laces he was determinedly working at. It was surreal, I thought, to have anyone but Elinor or Marianne helping me with my dress. "Why is it so complicated?" he asked, not even half way down the back of the dress yet. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Tradition states," I told him, "that the more valuable the item, the more well-wrapped it will be. Do you doubt the value of your gift because it is hard to get out of the wrappings?" I could feel him momentarily still behind me, then his head rested against the top of my spine and I could feel his breath wash down the back of my open dress. He kissed the exposed skin before murmuring "No" and continuing with the ribbon.

He finally reached the bottom when he turned me around and carefully pulled at my sleeves, dragging the dress off me. I stepped out of it and laid it across the back of a chair before straightening once more. His eyes roamed across my body, taking in all my remaining garments. Though I felt exposed without my dress I was still mostly concealed from his anxious gaze. He groaned a little, shook his head, and then reached out to begin working at my petticoats. His grin was mischievous when he looked at me. "Do not worry darling, I will get you out eventually." I giggled and helped him find all the ties and laces as we removed layer after layer until the corset came off and I was standing before him in only my shift, which was of the finest linen so thin you could see right through it.

He simply stared and I did not know what I should do. Uncertainly I asked, "Am I… I mean… are you… happy?" His eyes shot up to mine and the look in his eyes was like being caught in a storm. So much emotion raged there but I could see it was good emotion and then I was lost as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me and kissed me in a way he never had before.

His mouth was open and his tongue touched my lips and then slid past them to explore my own mouth. Our tongues met and fought and he nipped my lips and sucked them into his mouth. It was so passionate, so overwhelming I couldn't even think anymore. I clutched his shoulders when I felt him lift me and carry me over to the bed. He set me down as if I were priceless china, his lips never leaving mine.

I started when I felt his hand on my foot and he released my mouth to look at what he was touching. Both hands explored every inch of my right foot before moving up my ankle, my calf, my knee. He stopped and kissed the back of my knee before continuing his journey and I felt so feverish from his touch and kisses I was barely aware he was pushing the shift up, exposing me to his gaze.

It was when he stopped moving that I opened my eyes. He was staring at what he had uncovered and I suddenly felt self-conscious of my near-naked state. His eyes moved to my face and recognized my burgeoning panic. They warmed with compassion as he spoke.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said. "You are so beautiful. I could never have imagined you so perfect."

He continued lifting the shift and I moved to my side so he could reach the strings that tied it closed. In moments it was on the floor and his hands were on my naked skin, rolling me back so he could see me.

I was distracted from my discomfort at his gaze when I realized his eyes were glossy with unshed tears as he looked at me. And I wondered; could love bring a man to tears?

Then his hands were at my waist and sliding up my ribs and gently holding and stroking my breasts in a way that brought the fire in my belly back to life. And his mouth was on me, suckling like a child at my breast and I could only cup his head and thread my fingers through his hair and hold him there because nothing felt more right. I barely noticed when one hand slid back down my body until he boldly touched me between my legs. It was as if he'd touched a lit match to me and all the fire that had been slowly building rushed to that area, causing my hips to lift and arch, seeking to increase the pressure.

I felt embarrassed, unable to control my body's reaction to him but Christopher looked neither shocked nor offended. Instead he seemed rather pleased from his position at my chest, his eyes watching me as he continued to touch me in a way I never knew could be.

A moan rolled out of my throat when he slid a finger inside and I was confused at how wet it felt down there. Then the thought became irrelevant when he slid back in with two fingers this time and his thumb began to rub against that fiery place and I went rigid with feelings I've never had before. A scream escaped my lips as my hips arched off the bed and I flailed under his body, so caught up in sensation I couldn't even consider if it was meant to happen or not.

When the room stopped spinning I opened my eyes to find my husband hovering inches above me, with a delighted smile on his face. "I have never seen you so beautiful," he said, and in my bliss I didn't see any point in arguing with him. And yet, I had to know…

"Was that supposed to happen?" I asked, a little unsure of myself. Christopher nodded and asked, "Did you like it?" He suddenly seemed uncertain of himself and I was anxious to encourage him that I had indeed enjoyed whatever it was we had just done. I pulled him down for a kiss and then whispered in his ear, "I did. Can we do it again?"

He laughed and straightened up, gesturing at his breeches, which he was still wearing but which seemed considerably tighter than they were earlier. "Perhaps you can help me?" he asked with a mischievous look on his face. I rolled onto my knees, newly aware of my continued nakedness but with my husband gazing upon me like some kind of delicacy it was hard to be self-conscious. I reached for his buttons, feeling a little bewildered, having never removed a man's pants before. Fortunately it was self-explanatory and far simpler a process than unlacing my dress had been for him.

I slid off the bed and stood in front of him before pulling the garment apart and sliding my hands inside, pushing the fabric down his body much as he had removed my dress. I concentrated on my task to keep from noticing what I uncovered as I kneeled on the floor and helped him disentangle his feet. Once that was done I leaned back and took him in, now clad only in a pair of knee-length linen drawers. I reached for the string tying them shut, loosened the bow, and drew them off.

A man's body is surprisingly different from a woman's I thought as I pondered what was in front of me. It was a little startling and yet remarkably fascinating. From my position on the floor I looked up at Christopher who was watching me intently.

"May I touch it?" I asked. He had said I was to explore and I wanted to do a good job of it. His eyes darkened at my request and he nodded sharply before speaking.

"Perhaps we should get in the bed? We'll both be more comfortable," he said as he helped me to stand. I've never gotten into bed naked before, I mused, as he pulled back the bedding and helped me in before sliding in after me. The sheets were beautifully soft as I moved against them.

I lay on my side, watching him get settled against the pillows, and then he reached out his hand to draw me in. He kissed my palm again and murmured against it, "You may do anything you wish."

Hesitantly I reached for his chest, beginning with slightly familiar territory. I explored each rise and dip, slowly working my way down his body, his eyes watching my every move. I paused briefly before touching the part of him that made him so different from me and was startled to learn it was like silk-covered iron. I sat on my knees so I could see it better, my long hair falling around my face, blocking his view of what I was doing. I grasped it carefully and heard him gasp, his hand coming to pull my hair back and thread through it.

I whispered, "What do I do?" almost embarrassed to ask such a bold question but desiring to know what he might want of me, what would make him feel as he had made me feel.

He groaned at my words but I could tell it was in a good way. The hand not holding my hair back came down and wrapped around mine, tightening my grip and showing me how to move. When he released my hand I glanced at his face and felt proud to see the pleasure I was giving him written across it. Suddenly he stopped me with his hand and a hiss from his lips. I could feel his pulse pounding in my palm and wondered what it all meant.

"You do not know the power of your touch," Christopher said, gently removing my hand. "Come, lay with me for a moment and let me strengthen my resolve before we continue."

Moving up to lie against him, skin to skin, was a revelation in itself. I did not know skin could FEEL so intensely and I exulted in it as I slid against him, his arms wrapping around me as I came to rest against his side and kissed him softly. We lay thus for several moments, sharing soft kisses, which became stronger kisses, and I felt the excitement in my body rising again, as it had earlier. Christopher moved over me and I thought I might melt from the fire in his eyes.

His lips moved across my face and down to my ear where he licked and kissed my neck and my shoulder. I gripped his back and arched up into him, anxious for something but not knowing what it was. His words whispered in my ear surprised me.

"What comes next, my love, is not so easy for a woman as it is for a man. I fear I will hurt you, but it is only for a moment, I promise." He drew back and gazed in my face, as though to gauge my response. I nodded at him to continue. "Once the pain passes, it will be marvelous; I will ensure it. Are you ready?"

Again I nodded and he kissed me fiercely, stoking my fire again. I could barely think let alone be fearful, so overwhelmed was I in the feelings washing over me from his mouth and his hands and his body, touching me everywhere at once it seemed.

Then I felt him between my legs and suddenly realized how all this worked. I spread wider for him and he carefully began to join with me. I felt full and tight and he continued moving, in a little bit, then out a bit, sliding deeper each time. He gave one sharp thrust and I knew the pain he warned me of, like a knife cutting deep inside. I tried not to cry out but tears spilled from my eyes as I clenched my arms tighter around him, hoping to still his movements.

He did still, and held me close, whispering into my ear words of love and comfort and I relaxed as I listened to him tell me all the things he loved about me: my courage, my compassion, my intellect, my beauty. The pain passed quickly, as he had promised and soon he was moving again within me and it was marvelous. My body was incited to move against him and it increased the feelings, the pleasure.

Elinor was right – it was amazing to be held this close by someone who loves me as Christopher does.

Then he slid his hand between us and pressed on that fiery place on my body again. Everything came to a standstill for a moment and then I felt as if I were falling from a high place and melting into a sea of sensation. I clutched him tightly as I cried out my pleasure. In my arms I felt him stiffen, then shudder, calling my name as he collapsed against me.

We lay for many moments, gasping for air, slowly coming back to ourselves after such a wonderful shared experience. He slid to the side and gathered me against him before pulling the bedding up to cover us. I was contented to rest against his chest, listening to his heart thud against my cheek.

His hand entwined itself in my hair and he pressed me closer. I could feel him draw a breath before he spoke.

"Are you well, my wife?" His hand stilled in my hair until he heard my answer.

"I am very well, husband. I do not think I have ever been more well in my life." I kissed his chest softly. "I could never want for more than I have in this moment."

He let out a breath and his hand resumed its path through my hair. "I know that of which you speak, my love. There is nothing more wonderful in all the world."

**Journal of Emmeline Brandon**

**5 September**

I am so happy! I love my husband with all my heart and he loves me. I only wish Father could have had a chance to meet the man I have married. I know he would have approved.

THE END.


End file.
